


Shipwrecks

by onbrokenfeet



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Mentions of blood and wounds, Pirate!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbrokenfeet/pseuds/onbrokenfeet
Summary: A story not meant to be told, a torment not meant to be shared, another mystery of the sea.[Governor Hollis's epic voyage to stop the dreaded myth known only as the Pirate King.]





	1. A Single Word

**Author's Note:**

> Forever and a half ago mysteriouslychocolatedestiny on Tumblr requested an AU where Laura is a governor tracking down an infamous Pirate Queen. This is my take on the request, and I hope you all enjoy it! [Will update about weekly]

The town of Silas is never short on gossip.   
  
Whether it be day or night, the port is overrun with sailors. Some of them traders, some of them navy, some of them, well, you don’t ask so long as they don’t hurt anyone. The cobblestone streets are always slick with the smell of the sea and the sky always carries the squacks and squabbles of gulls above. This is your world, your home. Out here on the street, surrounded by shouted curse words and vicious brawls, you are calm.   
  
“I don’t know why you insist on coming down here,” your guard says. He’s one of your best ship captains. A brilliant strategist, great with a musket, and yet such a little brat at times.  
  
“These are my people,” you reply with a soft smile. “Economic status does not change that fact.”   
  
“I suppose,” he says. He continues to follow you with his gun close to his chest. A crew of men comes rolling down the pier on the hunt for rum and warm beds. They each pay their respects to you while doing their best to terrify your guard. You stifle a chuckle, he notices and scowls. You continue through the hazy evening. Cigar smoke and the smell of sweat fills the air. Sirens call from doorways, hoping to snag a pocket of coin. You nod at them each in respect, they pay their taxes, you keep your men away from their business. It’s all fair.   
  
You trace the outline of each building with your eyes. The sun has sunk into the depths and left the world to drown in the night. The lamps around you can only do so much to keep the street glistening beneath you. The shouting and fighting that makes the docks breathe is starting to become a distant echo from the pubs. Ships stand tall and proud after yet another prosperous voyage. You settle your eyes on your destination and smile. You stop at the door and take a breath through your nose.   
  
“There are bakeries closer to home,” your guard reminds you.   
  
“You can go home, I won’t be needing you if all you’ll do is complain.”   
  
“Last time I left you down here, you broke your arm.”   
  
“Special occasions call for special betting contests,” you remind him. You open the door to the bakery and the world becomes warm around you. Oil lamps keep the tight room in a warm glow. There are four empty, wooden tables to your right. There’s a counter at the far end of the room. Behind it, bread is being placed in sacks. You see bright red curls bouncing erratically. You walk toward them and knock lightly on the counter, causing the woman behind it to jump.   
  
“Lau- Governor Hollis!” She says with a smile.   
  
“Perry,” you greet.   
  
“Captain Armitage,” she greets your guard with a nod.   
  
“Miss Perry.”   
  
“I know you’re closed, but I was hoping to snag something to soothe my sweet tooth.”   
  
“My door is always open to you, governor,” Perry says.   
  
“No need to be formal,” you reply. She smiles nervously and turns to disappear into her kitchen.   
  
“Does she seem a little off to you?” You whisper to the captain.   
  
“Is she ever not a bit anxious?”   
  
“Point taken.”   
  
“These were a special today, this one is still fresh!” Perry calls upon reentry. She has a delightful, perfect pie in her hands. “You can eat it here if you like, I’m about to take my stale loaves down to the orphanage.”   
  
“You always were a saint,” you say softly. “Why don’t we walk you down there?”   
  
“The kids do always love your pirate stories,” she says with a frown. You stare at her for a moment, the dim light in the room reveals what she lacks from sleep deprivation. Her eyes are swollen, purple bags weigh down her lids, and her skin is pale enough to disappear against the moon. You know what ales her, but you’ll ask anyway when the time is right.   
  
“I’ll carry the sack,” you offer. “You just lead the way.”   
  
“Right,” she says. “Thank you.”  
  
You follow the captain out the door with the sack over your shoulder. Perry follows behind you with her keys jingling in her hands. She locks the bakery and you continue on your quiet journey. You’re headed back the way you came, and the orphanage isn’t far. You head down an alley or two through a bit of muck. You know your maids will scream when they see your boots. You make it to a street, a bit brighter than those on the docks. This part of town mostly holds workshops. Perry watches the signs overhead and sighs. With her head low, she asks :   
  
“Any word from the Eresh?” There it is.   
  
“No, actually,” you reply. “I’ll have to ask the Owl when it comes into port tomorrow.”   
  
“They should have anchored in Kingsley a week ago,” she says. She looks ready to cry.   
  
“They were taking a small cargo,” you remind her. “Nothing of interest.”   
  
“Would the pirate king know that?” She snaps. You look at her with a raised brow and she bites her tongue.   
  
“Perry,” you say gently. “The Captain and their men should be fine. I’d be more worried about rabies from the rats than the pirates.” You’re not entirely lying. The mythical crew of the damned seems calculated in their movements, and striking the Eresh isn’t their style.  
  
“Stories are going around,” she says shakily. “I can hardly escape them, men talking about a dreaded ship flying the Jolly Roger like some kind of medal of honor. They say it comes at them in the night, surrounded by sirens, and full of flesh eating monsters.”   
  
“And you believe them?” You ask. She blushes.   
  
“It’s hard not to, the way they found the men of the Fighting Falcon.”   
  
You swallow hard. The day they found the Falcon was a grim one, indeed. The entire crew had been torn to shreds. A couple of nearly whole bodies had washed to shore on driftwood without a single drop of blood left in them. The sea is an unpredictable thing, but became all the more enigmatic that day.   
  
“Torn apart by a storm, or the rocks, no need to worry about fairy tales, miss,” Armitage spoke up.   
  
“We should also keep our voices down,” you say. “The priest will kill us if we give the children nightmares.” The orphanage is the next building coming up. It’s one of the oldest ones in town, used to be a pub, you think. There’s still a board on the window from when you cast a rock through it as a child.   
  
“Right, well, let’s get inside,” Perry says.   
  
“Perry,” you whisper. She stops but doesn’t face you. “If the ocean itself doesn’t get rid of those monsters, we will.”   
  
“Thank you,” she says sincerely. She pushes the door open and you’re greeted by a chorus of happy shouts.    
  
“Ms. Perry! Ms. Perry!” They shout with their hands in the air.   
  
“And Governor Hollis!” One child shouts.   
  
“Tell us a story! The one about the octopus!”   
  
“No! The one with the year long sword fight!”   
  
“Hush now, children, let the governor take a moment to rest,” the priest says gently. He greets you with a warm smile.   
  
“Pleasure to have you back, Governor Hollis.”   
  
“Will everyone stop calling me that?” You groan.   
  
“A title you have earned,” he says. “Thank you for the bread, as always,” he says to Perry. You hand him the sack and he begins handing the bread to the children.   
  
“I can tell one story,” you say to the children. “Which one do you really, really, want to hear?”   
  
“Octopus!”   
  
“Sword fight!”   
  
“A love story!”   
  
You look to find one particular child. A girl with a pair of crutches and a missing eye. You know her, an old sailor’s daughter. She wants to hear a love story. You only know so many. The other kids yawn and gag at the idea of a romantic tale. You, however, remember a story no one is supposed to tell. You clear your throat while attempting to clear your mind. Octopus story it is, then.  
  
“Alright,” you say. “Everyone sit down.”   
  
The children immediately plop to the ground and stare up at you. The priest pulls a chair over for Perry and Armitage takes to leaning against the wall.   
  
“Once upon a time,” you begin with a frown. Your breath hitches as you’re forced into a memory. You open your mouth to speak again but behind you, the door swings open with a loud thud. The children jump and the priest stands defensively. Armitage readies his musket, but finds there is no need.   
  
“We need to speak with Ms. Perry, if we may,” A man in your uniform says. He’s a member of your navy, but you don’t recognize him. Perry stands slowly with shaking knees. She knows what is to come, and you know her pain. She nods and follows the man outside. The man she came with looks to you.   
  
“What happened?” You ask.   
  
“Governor- We weren’t expecting you here, we’ve been look-”   
  
“What happened?” You interrupt, asking again.  
  
“It’s not something to speak of in front of the children.”   
  
“Alright,” you say. “Sorry kids, storytime is postponed.” The children all groan and throw up their arms in protest. You feel a knot begin to tie itself in your stomach. You promised to keep the monsters at bay only a moment before, you remind yourself. You turn to face the sailor and he gestures at the door.  
  
You follow him outside just as Perry falls to her knees. The man in front of her places a hand on her shoulder and attempts to help her up. You watch, and you want to help her. You know immediately what the news must be. Monsters can apparently forget their usual strategies. Monsters can destroy lives without a care. You want to tell Perry that you understand, that you’ll do anything you can. But you know that your words will fall on clotted ears. You follow the sailor around the corner and attempt to keep your resolve.  
  
“Captain LaFontaine and the crew of the Eresh were attacked by the Pirate King,” he says. It’s not only a personal loss to you, but a great loss to the town.   
  
“Let me guess,” you say. “More stories full of wild imagination and gore.”   
  
“Well, yes,” he admits. “But this time there was a survivor.”   
  
“What?” You ask. You’re dumbfounded. Stories were passed by those that found bodies and burning ships. Stories were passed by drunks who thought they may have seen a ship soaring through the night. Stories were not passed by survivors, simply because no one survived.  
  
“A sailor of the Eresh was tied to a lifeboat that drifted ashore here. He confirmed there were no others, but he won’t speak to anyone but you.”   
  
“Take me to him, immediately.”   
  
He nods and gestures for you to follow. You turn back to see Perry being walked home by the other sailor. You want to run to her and hug her and remind her that the world is still turning. You know though, that her world has plummeted out of the sky.  
  
“I’ll give them hell for this,” you say.  
  
You watch Perry fade into the night. Your heart aches along with hers, as will so many. It’s different for her though. She is falling through hell to be spit out on the other side. You know this feeling, this pain, and you know what her burns will look like when she comes out. You turn away and you make your way through a tense city. Shops are locking doors usually left open. Windows are locked tight. People hide in their homes as if war is waiting at the shore. Stories spread quickly in Silas.  At first, the Pirate King was a rumor, a silly story told to scare children. The story grew as more and more ships were found destroyed. They were calculated, it seemed. Each one held something worth stealing, or at least someone worth killing. This ship though, this doesn’t fit the description. Evil monsters or not, those fairy tale psychopaths would pay. For the captain, for the crew, for Perry.  
  
“He’s being kept in the infirmary,” the sailor says. “He was starved half to death when he washed up, but they didn’t hurt him otherwise.”   
  
You are lead past the naval barracks and into the infirmary. Quite a few off-duty sailors await news outside the doors. Not a single one is shaking in their boots. You’re proud of them, but there’s no time to say it. You brush past a nurse scurrying between patients. The room holds two dozen beds, only half of them are filled. Most of them are sick sailors whining through coughs and broken bones. There’s one though, all the way at the end on the right. He’s shaking and he’s crying. He’s still in his uniform, even though half of it is torn away.   
  
“Governor!” A voice calls. You look to find your commander red in the face. She’s angry, and you’re about to get an earful.   
  
“Commander Lawrence,” you say.   
  
“Ma’am. The sailor won’t speak to anyone. Not even the nurse! We have no idea what happened out there or what we should even prepare for.”   
  
“Have you confirmed he was from the Eresh?”   
  
“Yes, he was tied to the boat with their flag,” she replies.   
  
“Well, let me talk to him.”   
  
“I don’t know that you should waste your time. They’re getting more bold and more violent, we need to prepare. This coward won’t even speak!”  
  
“To you,” you remind her. “I know the captain was your friend, and mine too. But, my only waste of time here is listening to you shout. You’re dismissed.” She lets out a heated breath and nods. She takes heavy steps around you and storms out.   
  
“Remind me to send her out more often,” you say to Armitage. He chuckles and nods. Your attention turns to the man in the bed and you ask Armitage to speak with the nurses on his condition. He does and you sit on the edge of the bed.   
  
“I heard you wanted to talk to me,” you say. He nods dramatically.   
  
“I have a m-message,” he says. “Only to be delivered to you, ma’am.”   
  
“Tell me then,” you say gently.   
  
“The king awaits your return to the sea,” he says. “The crew also sends their condolences to Perry.”   
  
“Perry,” you say softly. “How-”   
  
“The king said you’d know,” he says.   
  
“Can you tell me anything about him? About the ship? Anything?”   
  
“We were halfway to Kingsley when we saw the damned thing. You could smell the foul magic in the air.” He swallows hard and stares out the window. “The navigator wanted to go around, but the captain wouldn’t do it.” Of course they wouldn’t back down.   
  
“Did the other ship attack?”   
  
“No! We pulled up beside her and we waited to see if anyone would speak. They didn’t, so we readied the cannons. The cap’n put out the plank so we could board. But, we got over there, and no one was there. So, the cap’n said to be careful and get back to our own ship, so we could blow the damn thing outta the water. That’s when we got ambushed.”   
  
“Why not just fire the cannons first?”   
  
“It wasn’t flying the Jolly Roger. We didn’t know who it belonged to or if there were innocents aboard, ma’am.”   
  
“Fair enough, what happened during the ambush?”   
  
“I don’t know, ma’am. They blindfolded me and tied me to a chair. I only spoke to the first mate, who spoke for the king. They kept me in the cabin while they killed the rest and sunk the Eresh.”  
  
The look on his face told the story on its own. He listened to them die, while he could do nothing. He listened to the ship he called home get claimed by the waves. Still, to get sent from the sea, into the harbor on a lifeboat while tied down, after an experienced captain decided to fall for an obvious trap. There was room for disbelief in his tale of woe.   
  
“Convenient,” you say. “And how am I supposed to believe it was the king then?”   
  
“The king also knew you’d want proof,” he says.   
  
“Smart king,” you reply. “What proof do you bring me?”   
  
He holds up a beaten piece of red cloth. It looks like it once belonged to a Silas flag.   
  
“The first mate only said one word,” he says. He hands you the flag piece and you toy with it in your fingers. It’s plain, it means nothing. It could be from any of your ships. You bring it close for inspection, and you smell it. The smell of crisp roses after a summer rain. The smell stings in your mind. You dig your nails into the fabric and you remember something, a story no one should tell.   
  
“What was the word?” you ask with a grim tone.   
  
“Karnstein.”   
  
That word sends you spiraling into the smell of brimstone. A hell so full of wrath and pain that even the oldest demons would suffer. You’re spit back into the moment, surrounded by the wounded, trying to hold back tears over a flag. You stuff it in your coat pocket and stand. It isn’t proof that it’s the pirate king, it isn’t proof of monsters or legendary ships, but it is proof that someone is trying to hurt you. Someone who knows stories that no one is supposed to tell is sending them across the sea. You thank the sailor and grab Armitage. You storm out of the building without a word to your guard. Commander Lawrence is waiting outside with the other sailors.   
  
“Get the Tidecaller ready to sail,” you say.   
  
“Your ship?” Lawrence asks. “It’s not safe to sail with those-”   
  
“You have your orders!” You shout. Everyone becomes stiff. “I’m leaving at dawn. Prepare a crew.”   
  
“I’m coming with you, then,” Lawrence says. You give her a sharp look.   
  
“You’re staying here and protecting the town. Armitage will come with me. The rest of you would probably be better off with your families than you are gawking at us.”   
  
The sailors scatter around you and you begin walking home. Armitage follows you, walking just behind. He knows how you are on typical occasions where a crew doesn’t make it home. This isn’t typical, and so he treads with extra caution.   
  
“So are the sirens real?” He asks, most likely with a smile.   
  
“He didn’t know,” you reply quickly.   
  
“My apologies,” he says honestly. “I know a joke is ill-timed.”   
  
“Don’t apologize,” you sigh.   
  
“I won’t, then. But, if we’re going out in the morning to chase after pirates, we may want to be able to speak to each other.”   
  
You turn toward your home and you can see it, the beautiful brick building waiting for you. You turn back to the captain and sigh.   
  
“I won’t relax tonight,” you assure him. “I probably won’t sleep. I’m relying on you to have your head on your shoulders tomorrow.”   
  
He pats his own head. “Still here.” Okay, that one earns a smile from you.   
  
“You’re dismissed, I’ll see you at dawn.”   
  
“You as well, Laura.”  
  
You wave to each other and you leave him to wander into the night.  You won’t sleep a wink tonight. Not a single tap to keep you going. You instead pace around your room, rubbing the flag with your thumb. At dawn, you will sail, with no destination. You will wander the waters and hope to see a dark ship that smells of foul magic, and perhaps even roses. You will hope that sirens aren’t real and that if you die, you at least die knowing what happened so long ago. Your knuckles turn white from how hard you grasp the flag.  
  
Whoever this is, king or not, you would bring hell to them, and you would set the sea ablaze. No one in town, no matter how close to you, no matter what title they had, ever, ever said that word to you. A story not meant to be told, a torment not meant to be shared, another mystery of the sea.   
  
“ _Karnstein_ ,” you whisper to yourself. The word repeats in your mind. Hell is spitting you back out, and you **will** mirror your burns on the skin of the so-called king.


	2. The Nightin'gale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better get your ascots out, it's mystery huntin' time. Special note : The word I was looking for to refer to Danny was Commodore, not commander. I'll be editing Chapter 1 to reflect the change.
> 
> Don't forget to follow my tumblr - mymindwandersonbrokenfeet   
> Send me your theories and crackships!

You can see maps on the back of your eyelids by the time you hear them.   
  
Three light knocks at your bedroom door echo in the cozy space. You grow stiff at the sound and wonder if you’re imagining things. You turn toward your window to find a promising glow in the distance. The sun is coming to claim the world and soon you will take the sea by storm. Three more knocks draw your attention back to the door.    
  
“Yes?” You call. You look back to your maps, tracing the layout of the coasts with your index finger.    
  
“Commodore Lawrence and Captain Armitage are waiting for you downstairs, ma’am,” a voice says. You jump from your seat and look down at yourself. You’re still wearing your cotton trousers and dirty ruffled shirt from the day before. You should probably have changed, or at least slept, there’s only one of those that you can fix now.   
  
“I’ll be right down,” you call back.    
  
“I’ll let them know!”    
  
You don’t consider your casual clothing, nor your royal threads as options. You instead think of an older outfit, one tucked away for a day like this one. It’s been waiting for you, and you it. You kneel on the ground in front of your dresser and open the bottom right drawer. A faint smile crawls across your tired features.   
  
It still has stitches on the arm from your first battle. You can almost feel the rope stinging in your hands from that awful escape maneuver you tried. You run your fingers over golden buttons. The jacket is white, though now a bit yellowed. The trim is red to display the pride of Silas. You wore this jacket at every possible moment you could when they gave it to you. No, when you earned it.   
  
_ “I’m so proud of you.”  _   
  
A voice drifts in your mind, gentle and sweet like a lullaby. You grasp the uniform tightly and take the words as a reminder. You have somewhere to be other than your memories. You change quickly, finding joy in the fact that your old uniform still fits like a glove. You place an old, faithful hat atop your sprawling blonde hair and place your sword at your side. With the flag remnant in your grasp, you’re ready to take on the world.    
  
The world, however, is less exhausting than your commodore. You can hear her ranting at the poor captain as you make your way down the stairs. She’s trying to keep her voice down, but as you come into view she stops entirely. The captain is standing patiently while the commodore has to stop herself from pacing.   
  
“Good morning,” you say with a knowing smile. “Is the Tidecaller ready to sail?”    
  
“Indeed, ma’am,” the captain replies. “Do you have a specific destination in mind?”    
  
“One or two, we’ll discuss it on the walk to the docks.”    
  
“Of course,” he says.    
  
“Wait. You’re headed into dangerous territory, _alone_ , and you don’t even know where you want to start?” the commodore asks.    
  
“I have some ideas,” you say. The captain chuckles.    
  
“And you have no problem with this?” the commodore asks the captain.    
  
“We’re on a wild hunt for monsters on the ocean,” he says. “I’m not expecting a wealth of logic here. Also,” he pauses and looks at you. “I think that us finding those monsters is a lot more plausible than us stopping the governor.”    
  
“Well, can we at least try to use logic? If there is a pirate king, and if he has some form of horrible plot against you, monsters or not, he’ll want you irrational and vulnerable which is how he’ll have you if you do this.”    
  
“Lawrence,” you sigh. “I know you’re worried. But if there is a pirate king, and if he has some horrible, personal vendetta against me, then I need to have answers.”   
  
“Will you at least consider taking an additional vessel?”   
  
“No,” you say. “I won’t risk leaving Silas exposed. I need you, and the rest of our fleet prepared for anything. Not a single ship leaves or comes into port unless it’s an emergency. Understand?”   
  
The commodore’s head falls and she sighs. She knows that Armitage is right, she’ll find a cyclops in her kitchen before she stops you from doing what you think is right. She brings a hand to her forehead and she thinks for a moment on what to do. You watch her try to dig for something, anything that’ll at least stall you. She finds nothing.   
  
“What makes this worth dying for?” She asks. You frown.    
  
“Answers,” you say simply. She nearly falls to the ground in irritation.    
  
“Well, I hope you find them,” she mumbles. She bows her head in some half-formed sign of respect and turns on her heels. She says nothing more, and neither do you. She walks out the door, defeated. You’ll apologize later when you have the king’s head in your hands. With your chin high and your resolve properly faked, you clear your throat.    
  
“Ready to chase a fairy tale?” You ask the captain. He smiles and nods.    
  
“I brought my head, like you asked,” he replies.    
  
“Good, obviously I lost mine,” you joke. He laughs and gestures towards the door. You follow the gesture and greet the sunrise.    
  
The awkwardly shaped buildings of Silas consume you in their obscure shadows. A few townspeople yawn into the early morning and call wishes of safe travels. You wave to each of them in thanks. A silence crawls between you and the captain, and brings with it a thousand insecure thoughts. You try to focus on the road ahead, but something in you says that Lawrence is right. You wouldn’t ever tell her that, but your anxiety sits like a stone in your stomach. You fiddle with the buttons on your jacket and remind yourself that you’re doing this, and you’ll do it right. For Silas, for _her_. You look up as you pass the orphanage where the children’s smiles shine while the sun is still yawning. The priest towers over them with a proud expression on his face.   
  
“Bring them back a good story, won’t you?” The priest calls.    
  
“I always do!” You call back. The children cheer and you wave to them before turning down an alley. You look to the captain who is wearing his signature light smile. He hasn’t seen the sea in months save for your trips to the docks.    
  
“I think we should discuss our plan,” he says. “Or, what we have of one.”    
  
“Right,” you say. You trace shorelines and town borders in your mind. “The stories say they attack at night, but it’ll be nearly impossible to track them out in open waters. There has to be somewhere that they go, most likely during the day, that they stock and visit a fence.”    
  
“Correct,” he says. “But, where could that be?” He asks.    
  
“Where do most pirates go to sell stolen loot and buy food?”    
  
“You mean other than Silas?” He asks.    
  
“Yes,” you say flatly.    
  
“Would have to be Knott’s Cove,” he says.    
  
“Which is about a three day trip,” you say. “Giving us two nights to try to catch them offshore.”    
  
“Brilliant,” he says. “Then we’ll be home from monster hunting in a week.”    
  
“Let’s just hope it’ll be that easy,” you say.    
  
“Oh, it won’t,” he says. “It never is.”    
  
You go to reply, but the growing sound of shouting in the distance interrupts you. You place your hand on your blade’s handle and listen intently. Whether it be day, or night, you can always count on Silas to be overflowing with excitement, and the kind you hear is the kind you always want it to be. In any other town, groggy sailors would be lined in formation to send you off properly. Your navy, however, wears their colors in a different fashion. They’re singing merrily and passing rum around the crowd. Half-awake children run across the pier playing games. Townsfolk dance to the sea’s songs and all of them pat you on the back as you pass.   
  
You push  your way to The Tidecaller with a half-grin on your face. With a rock in your stomach, but a lust for the ocean, you find the old girl where she always sits. The Tidecaller bathes in the waking sun and shines as a beacon made of former glory. You remember running down this very dock so long ago, shoving other sailors out of the way so that you could taste the sea first. You turn back to find the captain with two mugs full of mead he didn’t have before. He goes to hand you one but you wave it away. He hands it to another sailor and chugs his own.   
  
“I haven’t seen Silas this excited in ages,” you say.    
  
“It’s not everyday one of the best captains in the Navy sets sail to wage war against pirates,” he reminds you.    
  
“Are you really that full of yourself?” You ask.    
  
“Wasn’t talking about me,” he says. He tosses his mug and pats you on the shoulder as he passes you. You stand in confusion for a moment before looking down at your uniform. It’s a typical day to see ships come and go in Silas. Any other day, the sailors around you would be off in the horizon. Today, though, today you make a bold return, and begin an even more bold adventure.   
  
You shake your head and clear it before following in Armitage’s footsteps. You walk to join your crew as their families finish wishing them a safe voyage. They’re wrapped in hugs so tight, their bones must be ready to break. You want to tell them all that they’ll make it home, but as if to remind you of the last time you made such a promise, a head of bouncing curls makes its way through the crowd.    
  
“Governor Hollis!” A weak voice calls. You’re greeted by a face even more pale and worn since the last time you saw it. As she gets closer, you see her cheeks are still wet. She’s carrying a tin in her hands.    
  
“For the trip,” Perry says when she makes it to you. “You never got yours last night.”    
  
“Thank you,” you say warmly. “I’m so-”    
  
“Don’t,” she says sharply. Her features begin to rest. “Just give them hell,” she says with some form of confidence. You nod.    
  
“We’ll give them worse if we can,” you promise.    
  
“Governor Hollis, ma’am! The Tidecaller awaits you!” a sailor calls. You look back to Perry to find tears rolling down her cheeks. She nods and you wave before you leave her to fade in with the crowd.    
  
The main deck is surging with the energy of the docks. The sailors begin to sing as they get to work. They dash around the deck and take their positions. You take in the feeling of the gentle sway of your ship. You let it ease your worries, but keep a bit of your anger tucked in your pocket. You stride up the deck to the bow and watch the town below. They’re still cheering and drinking. Armitage is behind you somewhere, shouting orders and watching your crew closely.    
  
“Weigh anchor!” You hear.    
  
You take a last look at your town and your people. You feel the sea start to crawl in your veins. You feel the freedom of the afternoon sun and the blessing of the wind. You raise your sword to the sky in a smooth movement.    
  
“For Silas!” You scream. The townspeople below start to cheer as your crew begins to take you away.    
  
“For Silas!” They scream in reply.    
  
A three day journey begins as the dawn greets you. You sheathe your sword and turn away from the fading town. Their cheers become distant echos that you’ll keep with you on your journey. You know some of your crew personally, but some of them are fresh faces. Old Pete has been in your navy since the dawn of time, and yet works just as hard as the rest. They’re like a clock tuned by an old master. Armitage is behind the wheel, looking like a child eating sweets. You take your leave from the deck as they hoist the sails. You slink into the captain’s office and place your pie on the desk.    
  
A three day journey begins, somewhere in between vengeful anger and lost hope, you nestle in an insecure excitement.    
  
The first day goes off without a hitch, your sailors keep your hopes up, and you praise their excellent work. They send you treading across the sea with ease. The first night is uneventful, with only you and Armitage on deck, making light conversation. You sleep better in your quarters, being rocked by the sea, than you ever did in your house.    
  
The second day is exhausting. A near storm sends your crew into a frenzy. Armitage plots the best course of action, and you keep your crew focused. You make it into the second night unscathed and still floating. The night is spent in exhausted silence, keeping half-wide eyes open for sirens until you give in. You fall asleep in the crow’s nest, a half-eaten pie in your lap. You dream of roses and rain.   
  
The third day is an exciting one. Your crew keeps swearing through jokes that they can smell foul magic. Their laughs are hearty and their work is smooth. Armitage takes a day to rest and you stand behind the wheel, keeping an eye out for the dreaded rocks to come. The rocks are worse than the monsters at times. The sun hits you hard but you keep your eyes ahead, watching, waiting.    
  
“Cliffs off the port bow!” A sailor calls from the crow’s nest above. “Knobb’s Cove ahead!”    
  
“Slow ahead!” You call. “Keep our speed low and your eyes peeled for rocks!”    
  
Your crew makes quick work of the sails and Armitage comes out from below. He stretches and watches you work.    
  
“We’re almost there,” you say.    
  
“I was wondering if that smell was foul magic or Old Pete,” he replies.    
  
“Both,” you say. You keep your eyes focused as you see the cliffs growing before you. Knobb’s Cove is a grim place, even during the day. You had visited long ago, quite a few times, even when you weren’t welcome. The jagged, gray cliffs are full of winding caves. It’s nature’s way of protecting the damned, you guess. The stone seeps into the ocean and rises to threaten all who try to enter. They may as well be pebbles to you.    
  
“Watch the starboard side, cap’n!”    
  
Your wheel slides under your hands and your ship drifts beneath you. You keep your eye on the town ahead and trust your crew. Some have taken to the sides, watching a graveyard pass beneath them. A grim air rolls over your ship that smells of rotten deeds. You see the town ahead of you, built by men made of the same stone as the cliffs. Makeshift buildings of brick and wood are sprawled across the docks. A couple of ships are docked to the portside, but none of them fit what you’re looking for.    
  
“When we get into town, I need two people here to guard the ship-”    
  
“Portside!”    
  
“I will go to the tavern, if it’s still there, to ask around-”    
  
“Starboard!”    
  
“You will check the brothel, don’t have too much fun-”    
  
“Dead ahead!”    
  
You pull the wheel hard and feel the rocks kiss your ship’s side. You smirk at your success.    
  
“Clear!”    
  
“The rest of the crew may rest, but I expect them to do what they can and-”    
  
“Everyone to their positions! Get ready to drop the anchor!” Armitage calls.    
  
“Old Pete will finally take a bath.”    
  
“Excellent plan,” Armitage says. “Welcome back, captain.”    
  
“Happy to be.”    
  
You sigh happily as you reach the dock. The anchor confirms another safe passage and Armitage passes along your orders. Old Pete cackles at his orders, and decides to go with Armitage on his travels. You pay the scabby, old rat at the docks to check in your vessel. You’re surprised such a place began keeping books, but not surprised that they like to take your coin. You follow the seemingly endless wood planks for a while, admiring the paint on the cliff sides. You turn your attention to the planks at your right. They lead past a row of buildings that continue into the cave ahead. You take a breath and pass the sailors around you.    
  
They have no uniforms, only bandages and missing limbs, but these are your people. They are those that love the sea, only they have a duty to themselves before anything else. They laugh and they breathe the salty air with joy. Their voyages have been prosperous too. You find a wooden sign above that reads ‘The Rat’ and prepare yourself. These are your people, you keep repeating to yourself. You didn’t always view them as such, but you’ll save what you can.    
  
The wood is painted purple in most spots, but it’s chipping away. The black shingles are laid in a way that tells you everything leaks. You straighten your back and open the door. The tables are full of sailors drinking and boasting of their adventures. One man sitting on a barrel is showing off his new pegleg. You chuckle as you walk past them and they eye you suspiciously. You walk over to the counter on the right where a large man with an even larger beer shows a toothy grin.    
  
“Ain’t everyday we get a Silas captain in here,” he says. “What’s got the boys in red all riled up?”    
  
“Nothing out of the usual,” you say. “Someone sank one of our ships.”    
  
His grin falters but doesn’t fade. He shakes his head. “Now who would go and do a thing like that?”    
  
“Oh, I don’t know, some kind of mythical ship full of monsters,” you say. His laugh nearly shakes the walls.    
  
“Tell me you ain’t out here looking for the king!” He shouts.    
  
“I am,” you say with a near pout. You place a foot forward and the sailors around you laugh.    
  
“This look like a place a king eats to you?” he asks. You look around the cramped space and shake your head. “Is what I thought. Go on, Silas, I got people to feed.” You roll your eyes and dig into your jacket pocket. You snag two gold coins and jingle them in your hand. He looks at you curiously.    
  
“At least tell me where to go next,” you say. He grits his teeth but keeps his grin.    
  
“The Nightin’gale,” he says with an open palm. “Ask for Belmonde, but don’t expect nothin’.”    
  
You drop the coins in his hand but don’t thank him. The sailors around you continue their tales of adventure, but watch you carefully as you leave. You push through the scattered crowd. Another ship must have recently made its way into town. You brush past the merry sailors and make your way into the cave. Hearty laughs and violent stories echo here, as they always have. Some say they do even when the cave is empty. Oil lamps are hung in various places to create stars in a false night. There are small, obscure shops here and there where space allows. They change their faces nearly every season. There’s only so much real business among thieves, after all.    
  
You journey to the left, through a cave much emptier than the first. If you remember correctly, this cave leads to the town square. Echos grow louder and you see light in the distance, unless you’re dying, you’re on the right track. The cave’s mouth opens wide and a sign to your right reads _‘Knobb’s Town Square : Under New Management.’_ That’s either vaguely threatening or promising. No one has ever been in charge around Knobb’s that you know of. They took what they took, and the town reacted as they felt right. You ponder the idea that the pirate king takes their role far too seriously as you walk into the light. The sun shines through a large opening above you. The buildings below look relatively mangled.    
  
You follow the gaps between them past merchants shouting about their wares and pirates doing, well, probably something awful. You keep your eyes on the signs above. The Alchemist’s Society and Occult Center, okay, no. The Angler’s Armpits, definitely not. Mel’s Armory and Blacksmith, maybe later. Then you happen across it, a sign carved into the rough shape of a bird. ‘Nightingale’s Inn’ is painted across it. It’s one of the tallest buildings that you can see, all of its sides are painted black in perfect coats. It actually looks, nice. You push open the door handle to find a quaint little place. It has bookshelves to the left fully stocked with nautical manuals and ancient tales. There are a few tables with candles burning in the center, each of them full of sailors. They’re quieter than the rest of the town, even while gambling over cards.    
  
“Sorry, no vacancy,” a girl behind the counter to your right says. You look at her, she doesn’t even spare you a glance.    
  
“I’m not here for a room,” you reply.    
  
“That’s good, considering we don’t have any,” she says. Her feet are on the counter and her blonde hair is tied in a sloppy bun. She’s reading a large book and drawing smoke from a pipe.    
  
“I’m looking for Belmonde,” you say. Her book snaps shut and she looks at you. She opens her mouth to speak, but lets her jaw hang.    
  
“Silas,” she says. The sailors all glance at you.    
  
“Captain,” a sailor says. You hear a chair scrape against the floor as she stands. Her outfit is like no other. It looks like a naval uniform, but it’s black with red trim. She’s wearing a gorgeous white hat to match her coat’s buttons. She greets you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen.    
  
“Please, come have a seat.”    
  
You look to the girl behind the counter who shakes her head and mumbles about blood. She puts her nose back in her book as you walk over slowly. You sit in chair across from the sailor.    
  
“You’re a pleasant surprise,” she says. She eyes you up and down before focusing on your face.    
  
“Are you Belmonde?”    
  
“I am,” she says. “But you can call me Mattie.”    
  
“Alright, _Mattie_ ,” you say. “I’ve heard that you might be able to help me find a certain king.”   
  
“I most certainly can,” she says.    
  
“So then take me to him,” you say. She laughs and folds her hands in front of her.    
  
“If only it were that easy, captain.”    
  
“It’s actually-”    
  
“I know,” she says. “But, not everyone needs to.”    
  
“Are you going to speak entirely in riddles?” You ask in a flustered tone.    
  
“I wish I could,” she says. “The captain ”    
  
“And your captain will take me to the king?” You ask.    
  
“My dear child, my captain _is_ the king,” she says. Your heart skips a beat and your skin rises. This woman watched the Eresh burn. She probably smiled, just like she smiles now, as your friend died. This woman who speaks in riddles, has heard a story no one is supposed to tell. This woman sent you a message worth dying for.   
  
“You-” Your words stick in your throat. You don’t even know where to start.  “You sank the Eresh.”    
  
“Not me personally,” she says. “But, can you blame them? They were going to sink us.”    
  
“You ambushed them!”    
  
“On our ship that they boarded, without permission,” she says. Her grin starts to fade, but she keeps it strong. “If you’re going to accuse me of murder, you may want to do it after you get what you came for.”    
  
You grit your teeth and try to calm yourself. She’s right. She’s a murderer, but she’s right. You exhale through your nose and regain your composure.    
  
“Fine,” you say. “When do I get to see the king?”    
  
“Tonight,” she says. “We’ll be making our way toward Pascal. Come with us, and we’ll drop you off in Silas on our way.”    
  
“You’re kidding, right? I’m not leaving my crew here to join you on some crime spree out on the ocean,” you say. You’re still seething.    
  
“Send them home,” she says. “And we won’t do anything entirely illegal while you’re on board.”    
  
“What guarantee do I have that you’re not lying about any of this?” You ask.    
  
“A single word,” she says. You wince. “I won’t say it, you’ve heard it enough.”    
  
“How nice of you,” you say. Your irritation is palpable and she’s relishing in it. You’re vulnerable and irrational, exactly how they want you. Damn it, why does Lawrence have to be right _this_ time?   
  
“How about you take me to your captain, I talk to him, and then I take my ship home?”    
  
“That wasn’t the proposal,” she says.    
  
“Too bad,” you say. She doesn’t want to play games, yet she’s scooting you like a pawn across her board. You look to the sailors playing cards around you. You’ll follow their lead and bluff. You stand and you stare down at her. There’s a glint in her eyes, an admiration, a joy in seeing you worked up. It fuels your fire. “As Governor of Silas, I place you under arrest for murder and a hundred other possible crimes.”    
  
She loses the glint in her eye as she looks around. You smile in victory, thinking that your pair of twos passes as a flush. You hear chairs scooting around you, though, and you realize that you’re wrong. Not everyone needs to know, you think. She was hiding you, from what, you don’t know. You place your hand on your blade’s handle and feel the atmosphere shift. Every sailor in the room is watching you.    
  
“She’s not the only one with blood on her hands,” the innkeeper says. She’s not, but you try not to think about it. These are your people, you remind yourself.    
  
“That’s right, gov’ner,” a long-faced man says. “Your laws are far from ‘ere”    
  
You weren’t always welcome here.    
  
“Maybe we should hang you from the cliffs, make an example for the other navy scum,” a woman says.    
  
You look to Mattie, who remains silent. She’s waiting for something. You look back to the people around you.    
  
“Tell you what,” the innkeeper says. “Ten silvers for anyone who lets me bathe in her blood.”    
  
You’ve tried to make peace with what you can.    
  
“Just when we were having fun, too,” Mattie says with a sigh.    
  
The room around you becomes full of flipped chairs and spilled drinks. Weapons are drawn and pressed at throats. They’ll all kill each other just to get to you, which is just fine with you. You deflect a blade as Mattie stands. She pulls two revolvers from her hip and prepares to shoot. Luckily, they’re not aimed at you. Unluckily, they’re the last thing you see. You hear shots, steel on steel, screaming and brawling. None of those sounds are as loud as glass shattering. The world turns hazy as you fall to your knees, and shortly after, fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're killin' me, Hollis. Cliffhangers for a cliff side town, anyone?


	3. Cabbages And Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which that which is mysterious and evil is really just sarcastic and rude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! It's an incredibly long chapter with a lot of changes in emotions and tiny new developments. I did a lot of tweaking and editing hoping that the pacing would work out well enough. If you notice any inconsistencies, please let me know! I'm still working out some typo bugs in the other chapters. 
> 
> We get an introduction of Carmilla in this chapter and Laura starts to get that stick out of her ass. I wanted to do a little more with fleshing out their time together here, but this is a bit of a bridge to get the story really going. There's a lot more insanity, fighting, and stories to be shared with the crew of the Panther after this!
> 
> Stay tuned!

_The world around you has a glow to it._ _  
__  
__It’s as if the walls are made from the remnants of old stars. The white walls of the corridor are stoic by nature, and bounce pretentious conversation into your ears. Politicians older than the ornate tapestries beside you discuss politics and past wars. They laugh over the dead, you simply fiddle with your jacket buttons. Someone to your side says something, but it’s distorted and overly loud. You ignore it and keep walking. The halls aren’t as you remember, but it doesn’t seem to alarm you. You head down a winding staircase and pass sailors in strange masks. Their uniforms are red with black trim, thick, wool masks cover the bottoms of their faces in white. You nod to them as if they’re old friends._ _  
__  
__The staircase brings the sound of music, a song you heard once or twice in the garden. You hear chatter growing louder and louder. When you make it to the bottom, you continue down another hallway. There are obscure paintings on the walls, so strange you can’t even tell what they are. Still, you are calm. You walk through two, large open doors. The crowd is dancing. Sailors in masks, aristocrats in the latest fashion. The only person you really see is her._ _  
__  
__Her hair is in a positively atrocious style. It’s probably something some princess, somewhere started. She’s still beautiful, even with her starlit locks lost in horrid curls. Her arms are folded across her chest and she’s so unhappy. She’s wearing a fluffy, pink dress after all. She sees you and her scowl lightens. You stride to her and she smiles faintly. You have to stifle a chuckle when you see her up close._ _  
__  
__“Not funny,” she says._ _  
__  
__“Very funny,” you reply._ _  
__  
__“Is that-” she says, gesturing at your uniform. You nod with a wide smile._ _  
__  
__“I’m so proud of you.”_ _  
__  
__The room begins to fade. First the walls, then the dancers, then it’s just her. The empty space fills with the booming sound of thunder. Lightning threatens to swallow her, but she’s gone. She’s gone and it’s just you, alone in the storm._   
  
The sound of thunder rolls toward you in a mighty growl. The sound doesn’t scare you, nor even make you flinch. It’s only loud enough to provoke your eyes into opening. There’s a dull pounding in your head like an old drum. You’re sweating and- itchy? You look down to find you’re tucked into bed quite nicely. The blanket is horrible, but at least you’re almost comfortable. How did you get here? What bed are you in?   
  
“You’re awake,” a voice says beside you. It’s low and taunting. You look over slowly to find another bunk a couple feet away. The light is dim in the room, but you can see a woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Her features are dark under the unruly night sky that is her hair. She’s wearing an enormous black coat, two sizes too big for her. You try to remember her, but you can’t.   
  
“Where am I?”   
  
“The Prowling Panther,” she says calmly.   
  
“Which is-” you reply. You look around the room. There’s a bunk above you, and another set behind hers. Are you in a crew’s quarters?   
  
“My ship,” she replies.   
  
“And you are-” Think. You’re on a ship. Where were you last? You remember a dark cave, and a horrible tavern. You remember an inn, quaint and quiet. Knott’s. You were on Knott’s. Now you’re on a ship.   
  
“Captain Carmilla,” she replies. You were on Knott’s, and now you’re on a ship, you repeat in your mind. There’s an oil lamp glowing beside you. Other than its light, there’s nothing.  
  
“And you’re Governor Hollis,” she says.   
  
“I at least remember that,” you reply. “I think.”   
  
“That’s promising,” she says with a chuckle.   
  
“How did I get here?” You ask.   
  
“Apparently, an innkeeper is under the impression that you, my dear, are the scum of the Earth.”   
  
_Innkeeper_. A warm smile pouring riddles into your ear slides into your memory. You remember revolvers and a fight. More than anything, you remember the sound of glass shattering.   
  
“Mattie,” you gasp. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to stand. You’re dizzy and weak, you nearly fall. She jumps from the bed to hold you steady. You grit your teeth and try to protest. She lets go, but stands close, watching you. You can't see the bottom of her face, it's covered in a thin white mask. Her hair shades the rest of her features. She's a shadow wrapped in cloth, bound to the earth by flesh.  
  
“Yes,” she says. “Mattie brought you here, she had to.”   
  
“Where’s my ship?” You demand. Your heart now pounds with your head, your body calling for a war it can’t handle.   
  
“Heading home safe to Silas,” she says. “As are you, as promised.”   
  
“My crew-” you say softly.   
  
“Are also on that ship,” she says with a pinch of sarcasm. “It won’t sail itself.”   
  
“Then why am I here?” You ask. You look her in the eyes for the first time. Her eyes are like the earth, rich and strong. Those eyes alone could kill you, you think. A look that holds all the blood of the dead and all the strength in the mountains is directed at you, and yet she’s calm.   
  
“I asked for you,” she says. Your heart skips a beat.  
  
“So you’re the pirate king,” you say. She laughs.   
  
“I suppose so,” she replies.   
  
“And what’s stopping me from killing you right now?”   
  
“Other than the fact that you can barely stand up?”   
  
“Right,” you say. “So then what’s stopping you from killing me?”   
  
For the first time in your conversation, she hesitates. Somewhere in between the sea of blood and the mountain peaks, there’s something else in her stare.  
  
“Nothing,” she admits as it vanishes. “But, it would be impolite to dispose of my guest.”   
  
“How kind,” you groan. “Please tell me there’s a reason that I came out here to get nearly killed by pirates and then kidnapped by their king.”  
  
“You almost got yourself killed, sweetheart, that’s not our fault,” she says. “In fact, Mattie saved you.”  
  
“Okay, maybe she carried me out of a brawl,”   
  
“Saving your life,” she adds.   
  
“ _Possibly_ saving my life, but that still doesn’t explain why.”   
  
She sighs and bows her head. “I don’t know that you’re ready for the answer.”   
  
At this point, you can’t feel anything. Not your head, not your heartbeat, not the sweat on your skin or the heat you know is rising under it. All you can feel is the desire to end this, no riddles, no secrets, just the feeling of home. The sound of seagulls and the crowds of sailors. That’s what you want to feel.   
  
“You brought me here with the word Karnstein,” you say. She nods. “So you know what it means.”   
  
“I do,” she says. There’s an edge to her words, a crack in her calmness.   
  
“Then you know how much pain you brought up just to set up this meeting.”   
  
“That wasn’t my intention-”   
  
“Of course it was. Why else would you bring her up? Why not send, I don’t know, a letter? An invitation? Why send me one of my men, terrified, across the sea alone with that word?”   
  
“Clearly I underestimated how much it still hurts you,” she says. There’s a weight in her words. They aren’t apologetic nor sarcastic. They lie somewhere else, far off near pain. She’s not the one being hurt, even though she should be. Yet even in your quest for revenge, you’re curious about her.  You feel your limbs shake and you know you can’t stand for much longer.   
  
“Please. Just tell me why.”   
  
“I’m not one to admit a failure, but The Eresh wasn’t our target that night,” she says.   
  
“Mattie made that clear,” you reply.   
  
“You might want to sit down,” she says. You adjust your feet and try to take a more proud stance. Your defiance isn’t working for your body, the room starts to spin and you take her suggestion. You sit on the edge of the bed.   
  
“So?”   
  
There’s a long, tense pause. Her fists clench and she seems to be searching for words. You don’t shake your stare and make sure she knows you’re waiting. You steel yourself.   
  
“We had a contract,” she says.   
  
“That-” you pause. “Does not sound very pirate-like.”   
  
“It isn’t,” she says. “Mattie likes to have things in writing.”   
  
“She sounds organized.”   
  
“She is, it’s awful. Anyway, we had a contract and because the Eresh wandered on board, we missed our target.”   
  
“So you’re assassins.”  
  
“We aren’t picky about the jobs we do,” she says. “Which makes it harder to connect them.”   
  
“Unless you dismember the crew,” you correct.   
  
“The crew has to eat,” she retorts. She says it casually, but your stomach churns. Did she just say eat? She catches your look of disgust and continues as if she didn’t just admit to cannibalism.   
  
“We’re headed to Pascal to report the incident,” she says. “Which sounds utterly diplomatic and professional, which is where you come in.”   
  
“You want me, a government figure, to go tell someone that your trap failed. I’m failing to see where this is so important.”   
  
“Maybe I want you, a person whose stories practically pull the tides of the seas, to help Mattie get this sorted out.”   
  
Your stories. You’re sure there are many, some true, most exaggerated, all of them boasted over mugs and card games. You miss making those stories and you miss telling them. Still, you can hardly believe that a myth wound in flesh heard your stories.   
  
“And maybe I want to understand your story,” you reply. “Do you plan on telling me who this contract was from?”  
  
“Eventually,” she says and you scoff. “Mattie will probably want to hold some sort of meeting before we get there. You’ll be included, if you decide to help.”  
  
“And if I don’t?”   
  
“Then you go home to Silas, and you get to lay awake at night knowing that you made it here, and that we exist, knowing nothing more than you did when you left.”   
  
She’s right. You hate to admit it, but she is. You are looking at a plague on the tides. You are looking at a story that makes even seasoned veterans shake in their boots. You have the opportunity to get answers that hide in caves and roll down cliffsides as legends. At the very least, when you’re well enough, you can still bring her head home on a stake.   
  
“Alright,” you say shakily. “I’ll help, but I go home afterward, and you never speak her name again.”   
  
“I’ll do my best,” she says.   
  
“And I still don’t trust you,” you reply.   
  
“That’s probably for the best. I have to return to the deck. Mattie will be by later to check on you.”   
  
“What if I start feeling better?”   
  
“We’ll find something for you to do,” she replies. “My boots _do_ need shining.” You pout, she laughs.   
  
“I’m kidding,” she says. “Find Mattie if you get bored.”   
  
You nod and she nods in return. She goes to leave and you lay back on the bed.   
  
“Wait,” you say.   
  
“Waiting,” she says as she stops.   
  
“That flag,” you say. “The piece you sent with the sailor.”   
  
“What about it?” Her tone is grim.   
  
“Where did you get it?” You ask.   
  
“I collect things,” she says. “It’s a bit of a hobby.”   
  
“That doesn’t answer my question.”   
  
“A story for another day, sweetheart.”   
  
She leaves without a real answer and you try to remind yourself that this is how they are. It’s probably how they have to be. Myths are profound in the way that maybe, somehow, they could exist, but no one knows the truth. All stories come from truth, after all. Even the one about the kraken. You try to digest everything that’s happened. You try to make peace with the fact that you’re on a ship surrounded by pirates. You try to make peace with the fact that you’re doing their dirty work for them. Something in it doesn’t make sense. With all her excuses, all her reasons, why pick you? Why send such a bold message just to ask for your help?   
  
If you were fully awake and your head wasn’t trying to split itself in half, maybe you’d take the ship by storm. Maybe you’d fight them all alone and send them to the depths. Somewhere in your mind though, you know it would never work. You’re stuck here, irrational and vulnerable, just how they want you. You could go home, but you’d still never figure out why.   
  
You spend a few hours laying in your bunk, staring at the one above you. Your headache begins to fade and your stomach begins to growl. You contemplate every decision you’ve ever made. You contemplate your love of the sea and your deeply seeded need to figure out mysteries. You wonder what it’s like in Silas. You imagine your captain arriving, with a lie, with the truth, anything to make your commodore pace the floor. You wonder if they’ll listen, if they’ll stay put. You wonder how much paperwork is piling up on your desk. You whine as you stretch and try to imagine something else, anything other than the scolding you’ll get when you return home. You don’t want to think about the king, or her crew, or the mess that you’ve made. Which, in turn, makes you remember a woman who hated formal events and stuffy politicians as much as you did.   
  
You remember someone you once held, someone as graceful as she was broody. You try to remember the way she danced, the way she smiled. The way she’s brought up, the whispers that carry her name, it’s hard now. It’s hard to remember anything but the smell of roses and the day she died.   
  
“Governor,” a voice says softly. You tense at the sound and look to the doorway. Mattie stands smiling with a mask hanging around her neck. She’s wearing a different hat than before, still intricate in design.   
  
“Mattie,” you say. You notice a plate of food in her hands and your stomach growls again.   
  
“This may be the last chance you have at eating peacefully,” she says. “The crew will be retiring soon.”   
  
“Oh,” you say. “Thank you.”   
  
“I’m happy to hear you’ve decided to come to Pascal with us,” she says. She walks over as you sit up and hands you the plate. It’s some sort of beans with a side of odd green vegetable. You shrug and begin chowing down as she sits on the opposite bunk.   
  
“I still don’t understand why all the fuss for a diplomatic mission,” you say.   
  
“Carmilla is a great captain,” she says. “Her personality is just not quite where it needs to be for something like this.”   
  
“You seem quite capable,” you say. “You did manage to fight off an entire inn full of sailors alone.”   
  
“Why thank you,” she says with a wiggle in her shoulders. You note to not further her ego as she speaks again. “If it were up to physical capabilities, we’d have that more than covered. This is a matter of politics and personal matters.”   
  
“Personal matters?” You ask. She dismisses it.   
  
“In any case,” she says. “Carmilla is excited to have you here.”   
  
“Ah yes,” you say. “I could tell by the apathy and horrible nicknames.”   
  
“You’ll have to forgive her, you’re not quite what she expected.”   
  
“And what did she expect?”   
  
“It depends on who you ask,” she replies. “Stories from innkeepers paint you as a ruthless killer. Stories from sailors paint you as a hopeless optimist with a heart of gold. Funny how stories twist, isn’t it?” She seems to reminisce for a moment before placing her eyes back on you.   
  
“I’m afraid neither of those are true anymore,” you say.   
  
“So I see,” she says. “Whoever you may be, I hope you enjoy your time with us, and please do refrain from trying to arrest anyone.”   
  
You let a chuckle slide and she nearly laughs. “I’ll do my best,” you say. “And thank you, y’know, for technically saving my life.”   
  
“Don’t expect it to happen often,” she says. She stands and takes your plate as you finish your food. “But, you’re welcome.”   
  
You crack half a smile as she leaves with a simple good-bye. You feel strange. You came here for blood that you still may want, and yet you feel calm. Your stomach is full, your bed is warm, and you feel a strange sense of ease wash over you. You can’t trust them, nor can you trust yourself, but you take what relief you can. You curl up into the bed and promise yourself that no matter who they turn out to be, you’ll try to remember who you are.   
  
Whatever that means now.   
  
You nap until the crew shuffles in. The sound of their boots lifts you from a dreamless sleep and you watch them carefully. Mattie pulls the mask from her face and hangs her hat on the wall. She climbs into the bunk above you and waves as she does. You watch the rest of the crew lazily make their way into bed as though they were puppets hanging loosely on strings. All of them wearing white masks on their faces. You’re tempted to rise and ask Mattie why they’re wearing them, but you know you won’t get an answer. You take a deep breath and finally decide that you’ve had enough of wallowing in your emotional distress and memories.   
  
This begins the first real day of sailing with pirates.   
  
You find that your jacket and sword have been hidden away from you. You let it slide, as you have had a tendency to threaten those on board. You make your way up to the deck and the sunlight threatens to drown you. You wince at the light. Right, the attacks happen at night, so of course they’d sleep all day. You allow your eyes to adjust and let the salt of the air stick in your throat. The deck is nothing special, particularly not special enough for a crew of the damned. The dark wood sways by the might of the sea and you find yourself alone with the woman behind the wheel. She’s taken to wearing a black tri-fold hat that shades her face. There’s a red feather in it that had to have come from a mythical bird. You want to laugh at how ridiculous it looks, but remind yourself that you’re still, by any standard you’ve set for yourself, in danger.   
  
You stride across the deck and look at the sights around you. There’s not a single promise of land nearby. It’s just you, her, and the waves. As you near her, she glances at you, but keeps her eyes straight. Her hands are steady, but light on the wheel. It’s a clear afternoon. She’s stoic and calm like the sea around you.   
  
“I see you’re awake again,” she says. Her voice is groggy and harsh.   
  
“Good morning is the typical phrase, I think,” you reply.   
  
“Is it?” She asks.   
  
“You’re not a morning person, are you?”   
  
“Not in the slightest,” she says. “I assume you finally got bored.”   
  
“Your blankets are also extremely itchy.”   
  
“All comments on accommodations go to Mattie.”    
  
“Right,” you say. “Any orders, captain?” You ask without a thought. It’s habit, you think. A habit that should have died, but lingers as a spirit. She raises a brow and you fold your arms.   
  
“Take to the crow’s nest.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“I’d rather notice a navy ship before it notices us,” she says. “We’re headed close to Lustig.”   
  
“Right,” you say. Lustig is home to the second largest naval base, the first residing in Silas. Lustig is also home to a pure hatred for pirates ever since the Falcon. This makes them slightly hate your open dock policies. Carmilla digs a spying glass from the pocket of her coat and hands it to you. It’s dusty and probably much older than you.   
  
“It’s an antique,” she says. You grip it with a nod and take to climbing the shrouds. Your muscles whine and remind you how long you were in bed. You collapse into the crow’s nest and try to make yourself comfortable. Sitting around wasn’t exactly what you had wanted, but at least you can keep an eye on that which lurks below.  
  
“Try not to hit your head up there!” Carmilla calls. You roll your eyes. That which lurks below is a lot more sarcastic than mysterious.   
  
The first day passes without issue. By the time the evening pulls the sun from the sky, you’re feeling more attentive. You watch for anything that may move in the distance, but other than a simple trader ship, you see nothing. Lustig passes off in the distance, the glow of its lights smiling off its shore. You wonder what they’d think of you, sailing off with pirates. You smile to yourself, imagining the look on Theo’s smug face when he finds out you’ve killed the pirate king.   
  
The crew makes their way back to the deck with Mattie taking the wheel. You climb down the shrouds to see that everyone’s masks are hanging around their necks. Their faces are eerie, to say the least. One man smiles a slimy smile at you and you find his canines to be alarmingly large. Another has a scar across his neck that you’re pretty sure should have been fatal. You shake your head and try to clear it of stories. The captain fades into her quarters, and you fade into the crew’s.   
  
The second day is long and unforgivingly hot.   
  
The sun beats down on you as you wrestle with the sails, alone. Carmilla calls orders to you and you try to keep up. Some of them don’t make any sense at all, and you assume she’s playing with you. Still, you’re here, and you have to make the best of it. The air sticks in your lungs and you’re thankful you don’t have to be in uniform for once. Carmilla calls another ridiculous order and you slide to a halt in your boots. She’s wearing her mask, but you imagine she’s giving some sort of satisfied grin. You give her one in return, yanking a rope, which causes the wind to catch the sails in just the right way. Carmilla yelps and screams something entirely vulgar. You cackle and put things back where they’re meant to be.   
  
“Not funny!” She yells.   
  
“Very funny!” You call in reply.   
  
It hits you in the chest, a wound faded but still open just enough. You frown, but try to hide it. Carmilla stays relatively quiet for the rest of the day, except for a few snarky remarks. When the sun starts to nestle itself in the horizon, you know your day of work is coming to an end. You look to the horizon and then Carmilla who watches the sky as if it were the last time she would watch the sunset.   
  
“It looks kind of pretty,” you say.  
  
“That it does,” she replies. A silence settles between you and you consider taking an early rest. There’s a light tension in the air, as there should be, you think. You pry yourself away from the idea of a conversation and bid her farewell as the crew shuffles on board. You return to your quarters, sweating and aching. Mattie brings you food after a while and you try to remind yourself to not get comfortable.   
  
Stay alert, do what they ask, get your revenge somehow, make it home safe.   
  
You chomp down a piece of bread and try to adjust to the blanket scratching at you. At least you haven’t had to do anything entirely illegal yet. Just a bit of treason. You leave the plate on the floor and sprawl out on the bed. Just a few more days and you’d be home, with answers, with revenge. You sleep soundly and dream of home.   
  
The third day is, well, nearly enjoyable, which makes it kind of awful.   
  
You spend the morning in the crow’s nest, keeping a watchful eye on the empty sea around you. The sky is clear and the heat has lost its ferocity. You nibble on bread and toy with the spyglass. You remember the king’s mention of collecting things and you wonder what else she has. You wonder what kind of stories she could tell, where she’s been. You wonder her history and take your eyes from the sea. You watch her under the sun, her hair swaying around her shoulders. Her gloved hands gentle against the wheel. She’s a smudge on the deck from where you are. This mysterious, sarcastic, creature of the night knows more of the ocean than you ever will.   
  
You can’t trust her or expect answers, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn at least something.   
  
You shrug and leave your bread hanging from your lip. You climb from the nest and make your way down the shrouds. You imagine you’ll be scolded for insubordination, but there isn’t a single thing around for miles.   
  
“Tell me a story!” You call across the deck.   
  
“A story?” She repeats. She doesn’t take her eyes away from the sea.   
  
“Yes,” you say as you walk across the deck. “I’m sure you have at least a couple of interesting ones. Just something to pass the time.”   
  
“You admire one sunset with a person and suddenly they think you’re friends,” she says.   
  
“Woah,” you reply. “Friends is a bit of a strong word. What about moderately acquainted business partners?”   
  
“Way too many words,” she says with a shake of her head. “Temporary acquaintances.”   
  
“We’ll still be acquainted after this,” you correct. “What about mutual contract holders?”   
  
“Too formal,” she dismisses. “You could always just refer to me as your majesty.”   
  
“Not in this lifetime,” you protest.   
  
“Your highness?”   
  
“I’m going back up to the nest,” you say. She laughs. You turn and grumble under a smile.  
  
“Once upon a time,” she says, loud and dramatic. Her low voice mocking the traditional story tellers. “There was a governor,” she continues.   
  
“Still going to the nest!”   
  
“Who hated pirates, and their wonderful sense of humor,” she continues. “But still found kindness in her heart to listen to an old king’s tales.”   
  
“You’re not even old!”   
  
“You’re being a very poor listener,” she replies. You laugh and turn back toward her, sitting in front of her like the kids at the orphanage. You cross your legs and nibble on your bread.   
  
“Go on then,” you say, rolling your wrist.   
  
“Where was I? Right, the governor wanted to hear a story,” she says with a nod. “So the king told her one.”   
  
You scoot forward and straighten your back. The wind ruffles her hair and she keeps her eyes straight. The earth in those orbs is warm in the light, even with shadows cast upon her face.   
  
“The end,” she says proudly.   
  
“What?!” You throw your hands up, losing the rest of your bread. “You’re going to tell me an actual story, right?”  
  
“I believe I just did,” she says.   
  
“A story is more like this,” you say. “Once upon a time,” you begin.   
  
You recall the story of the kraken. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a kraken exactly. You tell her about the lightning tearing through the night. You tell her about enormous tentacles threatening to tear apart your ship. You tell her about your men sliding across the decks, plunging their swords into the beast. You tell her about the man you lost, the single soul in the belly of the beast. You tell her about your balance as you tried to cut a tentacle off. You almost succeeded, unfortunately the beast had additional tentacles that you hadn’t prepared for. You tell her about your daring escape and the victory of your crew. You tell her the story you’ve told a thousand times, and you feel that you’ve now perfected it.   
  
“The end,” you say, satisfied. You look up to her and she lets out a loud yawn.   
  
“Is that all? An octopus?”   
  
“Like your story was any better,” you reply. “And it was a squid, thank you very much.”   
  
“It’s moderately impressive,” she says. “But I couldn’t feel it.”   
  
“What do you mean?” You ask.   
  
“Everyone tells stories like it,” she says. “Another tale of conquest from a sailor, no emotion, no real feeling, just glory.”   
  
“Says the pirate,” you retort. “Isn’t glory the whole reason you’re doing this?”   
  
“Money helps,” she says. “But no.”   
  
“Then why?”   
  
A silence settles between you as the sun loses its balance in the afternoon sky. It’s sliding to the west now and you know your final day with her will end soon. You have these final hours to get a story, any story, and you feel like you’re going to miss it.   
  
“The same reason that you’re here,” she replies.   
  
“Answers?” You ask.   
  
“Love,” she corrects. It sits in a strange place in your stomach. All this talk of answers and revenge, and she’s right. Well, almost.   
  
“Care to elaborate?” You ask.   
  
“I’m afraid we’re not there yet,” she says. “You’re not the only one with wounds that haven’t healed.”  
  
It hurts. It hurts you to hear, and it seems to burn on her tongue. You want to ask for more, for anything. Yet you know better to ask for what you can’t give in return. You nod with a frown and a silence settles between you. The wind kisses your skin as if to remind you that the sun is still shining.   
  
“We’ll be in Pascal tonight,” she says. You look back up to her and you feel as if you’re looking at a statue. She’s turned to metaphorical stone and her words are rigid. She’s guarding her wounds with more bandages than you can imagine.   
  
“I assume Mattie will want that meeting,” you say.   
  
“And you will get some of your answers,” she replies.   
  
“It won’t make me forgive you,” you remind her.   
  
“I don’t expect it to,” she replies. “It may also not answer all your questions.”   
  
“I don’t expect it to,” you repeat her words.   
  
“Glad we understand each other,” she says. “You can rest if you like, we have a long night ahead.”   
  
You nod and stand at her command. You dust yourself off and take another look at the sun. Your temporary time as a pirate is coming to an end, yet the worst is still to come. You let the conversation end and wave as you head to your bunk.   
  
You don’t get any sleep or real rest. You shuffle occasionally and at some point, you count the number of floorboards beneath you, twice. You consider going back and asking for another story, but you know the moment has passed. You wait in silence for a while with your mind wandering. You laugh into your pillow, the thought of calling her a soon-to-be-dead-almost-friend-ish-thing, and start to curse her for being human. They’re not supposed to be likeable and real. They’re supposed to be horrid night stalkers that prey on the innocent. You’re supposed to bring them home to hang from the docks as a reminder. Yet, here you are, imagining ways to get under her skin without steel. You focus on the floorboards again and try to relax. You won’t make any sense of your heart’s desires by overthinking the matter. By the time the crew rises, you’ve counted the floorboards a fifth time, and you’re excited to leave your bed. Mattie slides from her bunk and stretches. The sun must be setting.   
  
“Governor,” she says with a smile. “I hope you’re prepared.”   
  
“I will be when I know what we’re doing,” you reply.   
  
“Fair enough,” she says. Her and the crew place their masks on their faces and you shuffle out with them. They’re groggy and honestly, they look a little sick. Their pale skin can’t possibly be healthy. You’d suggest they get more sun, but they seem to shy away from it. You shrug and shuffle with them on deck. They take to their posts and you look to the sky. Purple meshes with orange in a vibrant collision. It’s beautiful, you think. You follow Mattie and look down at the deck. Carmilla is already headed into her quarters with one of the crew taking the wheel.   
  
Mattie approaches the red door and knocks twice.   
  
“She knows we’re coming,” you say.   
  
“I’m being polite,” Mattie replies.   
  
“Are you sure you guys are pirates?”   
  
“Almost certain,” Mattie replies. You hear a harsh come in from the other side of the door and Mattie pulls it open. You follow her inside and lose your breath at the sight of it. First of all, it’s a mess. Second of all, it’s the most beautiful mess you’ve ever seen.   
  
There’s an armoire to your right with its doors open. Various coats and jewelry hang from the doors. The inside contains weapons of all flavors. Guns, swords, even a mace of some sort. There’s a table in the center of the room with candles dripping wax onto the wood. It’s covered in strange figures and dolls. They must have come from each sea, all of them painted and decorated to represent the people of the world. There’s a desk to your left neatly organized with paperwork. You imagine that’s Mattie’s. Though, the pile of seashells on the right side indicate Carmilla still claims it. There’s a mostly broken stone statue next to the desk and a globe in the corner beside it with daggers sticking out of it. One for each place they’ve been, you assume. It’s nearly covered. There’s a world full of history in this room.   
  
Carmilla is sitting at the table, her boots on the top, her chair leaning backwards. Her toes are on the top of a delicately carved snowman. Her mask still hides her face as Mattie removes hers.   
  
“Let’s get to business then,” Mattie says. Carmilla watches you as you look around the room, trying to keep an eye on where you’re going. You sit in a chair Mattie pulls out for you and try to remind yourself that this conversation is important.   
  
“I’ve given this a lot of thought, to ensure we have all of our bases covered,” Mattie says.   
  
“Of course,” Carmilla replies.   
  
“Our contract,” Mattie continues. “Was a bit more adventurous than most of our others.”   
  
“Who is your contract with?” You ask.   
  
“Vordenburg,” she says. You have to contain a gasp as you look over to her. That old idiot?   
  
“What in the name of the sea is he doing dealing with pirates?”   
  
“He’s a bit of a fool,” Mattie replies. “If not for the amount of money he offered, we would have laughed his contract away.”   
  
“He’s a governor,” You say. “Dealing with pirates.”   
  
“A great many of your so-called politicians are really just professional criminals,” Mattie reminds you. “This is the first time we’ve dealt with one directly in this manner, which is why we need you.”   
  
“I can’t be seen with you in front of another governor,” you say.   
  
“Unless you’re our prisoner,” she replies. “And your captain headed home to tell your commodore that he couldn’t save you.”   
  
“Which would send the entire fleet of Silas out to capture you,” you say.   
  
“I’m sure it would, but it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been chased, and it very well won’t be the last. We have a short window of time to handle this matter. We’ll be weighing anchor in the harbor, as out of sight as possible. You and I will be going ashore. I trade your freedom for mine, and your fleet gets to take you home. It’ll be handled discreetly, Vordenburg gets to play hero, you get to go home, and we’ll be out just in time for breakfast.”   
  
“You’re going to use me as bait,” you say.   
  
“More of a bargaining chip. It wasn’t my original plan, but I’ve had time to reconsider. We’ll play on the old fool’s love of glory and not a single drop of blood will be spilled. I thought you might prefer it that way.”   
  
You lean back in your chair and consider it. You’ll have to lie, to your captain, to your commodore, maybe even to the king himself. You’ll have to let Vordenburg get all the glory for saving you, which, is definitely not something he needs in his ego. You’ll get to go home and no one will ever know you became almost-sort-of-kind-of-close-to-friends with the pirate king. It’s not the worst plan you’ve ever heard, but you know it won’t be that easy.   
  
“What if he doesn’t accept the deal?”   
  
“We can try to re-negotiate the original contract, but I loathe the idea of staying too close to failed endeavours. I can make an easy escape if I need to, otherwise, I’ll have to use more unpleasant measures.”   
  
“Wait- you’re going to kill him?”   
  
“If he attacks,” she says. “Which I have to consider a possibility considering his behavior. Don’t worry, you’ll be left alive.”   
  
“Yeah, because alive and unharmed after sailing with pirates for days won’t seem suspicious.”   
  
“I didn’t say unharmed, only alive, little one.”   
  
“You will not hurt her,” Carmilla says. You and Mattie both look at her, as if she were a dog speaking. She’s glaring at Mattie, the sea of blood swirling in her eyes.   
  
“I won’t if I don’t have to,” Mattie says.   
  
“You won’t have to,” Carmilla replies. “If you’re not back in an hour, entirely blood-free, I’m going ashore and ensuring her safety, understood?”   
  
“Carmilla-”   
  
“No,” Carmilla says. “We owe her if this plan goes well, and being maimed by you isn’t how I intend to repay her. You go in there, you make him take that deal, and we leave her on her way home. That was the plan, and we’re sticking to it.”   
  
“My, my, kitty cat. I see you’ve grown attached. Fine, she’ll be left without a hair out of place. We haven’t much time, so I suggest you say your heart-filled good-byes before we head ashore.”   
  
“You’re dismissed,” Carmilla says. You look at her in awe. Did she just stand up for you? You watch Mattie tip her hat and smile.   
  
“I look forward to working with you,” she says to you. “It really is an honor.”   
  
“You as well, I guess,” you say in an uneven tone. She excuses herself and leaves.   
  
“So should I go or-”   
  
“Up to you,” Carmilla says. She lifts her feet from the table and stands. She walks over to the armoire and grabs something from the side. When she turns, you see it’s your sword and jacket.   
  
“You may want these first,” she says.   
  
“Thank you,” you say. You put your jacket on and hold your sword tightly in your grasp. This is your moment, this is the one where you could kill her. The words _you will not hurt her_ echo in your mind and you can’t bring yourself to think anything else. She’s going to make sure you get home alive and somewhere in you, you want her and her crew to sail on.   
  
“I guess this is the end of our travels together, almost business partner.”   
  
“It would seem so, temporary employee.”   
  
“I’m gonna-” Miss you drifts in your mind, but you stop yourself. You can’t miss what won’t ever exist in your presence again, you refuse to. She’s annoying and callous and utterly confusing. At the very least, she’s an assassin, a pirate, a whatever-else she does. She’s horrible and terrifying, but she wants you to live. You want her to live.   
  
“You too, sweetheart.”   
  
You look at her eyes and the earth in them is soft as if it’s just rained. She looks away and if you could tell by her eyes alone, you’d say she was frowning.   
  
“Can I see your face?” You ask. “The whole thing.”   
  
“I can’t let you know all my secrets,” she says.   
  
“I know like, maybe two,” you say.   
  
“Which is a lot more than most,” she says.   
  
“Gee, I must be lucky,” you say.   
  
“Before you go, there’s something you should know, though.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“I’m-” she pauses. She searches for something in the floor, but she can’t seem to find it. The words are stuck in her throat, and you wait, rather impatiently.   
  
“Sorry,” she says. It’s not what she wanted to say, you can tell. “If it’s any consolation. For what you’ve been through.”   
  
You consider a response, every response. Your hesitation makes the room feel thick. You admire a sunset with a person, and suddenly, you feel like you could be friends.  
  
“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say. “And better than paperwork, though, I could have done without the whole using me as bait part of the deal.”   
  
“It’ll be over soon,” she says.   
  
It will. All of it will come to an end, and you’ll leave more confused than you were when you left home. There’s no way you can focus on anything now, not after all this. Life back home is boring when compared to poking fun at a living legend.   
  
“You still want that story?” She asks. Your eyes must shine in the dim light of the room. The children of the orphanage couldn’t be more excited then you. You nod dramatically and she chuckles. She gestures towards a seat in the back of the room and you follow her lead. The upholstery is old, faded red. It’s torn apart, but surprisingly comfortable. The moonlight drifts in the windows and you watch the sea sit calmly behind you. Carmilla sits beside you with her legs folded and after a moment of debate, she begins.   
  
“Once upon a time,”   
  
Oh, it’s good. It’s good and it’s so sweet. Her voice is gentle but you can see where things matter. Her nose crinkles in certain ways, her eyes glisten when she hungers for myths even mightier than her. She tells you a story of a triumph without blood or guts. There’s no glory, but there’s love. The love you’re waiting to return, the love even a pirate king can apparently feel.  
  
“And so, the goddess was trapped without her love. It still lies somewhere under the sea, guarded by an atrocious beast of light. They say she walks the earth, chained in human form, waiting for her love to set her free.”   
  
You sit with your eyes growing misty. It’s a beautiful tale, and she tells it well. You consider clapping, but it might ruin the moment.   
  
“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Where’d you hear it?”   
  
“A maid in Baltor’s castle told it to me a few years ago.”   
  
“Baltor? You’ve been to Owko?”   
  
“Once or twice.”   
  
“Oh wow,” you say with a gasp. Owko is on the other side of the world, you think. She’s been around the globe, of course she has. She’s seen the things you’ve only seen in your sleep.   
  
“What are you doing sailing around here then?”   
  
She winces at the question. You suspect she’ll dodge it, or give you another riddle. Yet, she surprises you.   
  
“I’m a bit chained myself,” she admits.   
  
“To Mattie?” You ask. She shakes her head. She wants to answer, but she won’t. You nod your head.   
  
“I could have sailed forever, you know,” you say. “With or without the navy. I wanted to see the world, find more stories. The old king appointed me after I lead the search for whoever sunk the Scallop. I had lost my love of the sea after that. I lost my love for well, everything. So I took the job and here I am.”   
  
“You’re chained too,” she says.   
  
“I am,” you admit. “Nothing was the same after she died. Not formal events, not dancing, I can’t even smell flowers without missing her. It’s been over ten years and I still keep hoping she’s out there, that she’ll come back.”   
  
She nods and she goes to speak but you shake your head.   
  
“Thank you, for the story,” you say. “Even if you’re vexatious and way too mysterious, it’s been- interesting, to almost know you.”   
  
“You’re welcome,” she says.  
  
You hear knocks on the door and Carmilla calls for whoever it is to enter. Mattie comes in and smiles.   
  
“Are you ready, Governor?”   
  
“As I’ll ever be,” you say.   
  
You turn to Carmilla. She nods.   
  
“The Scallop,” she says.   
  
“What?” You ask.   
  
“The flag piece. I swiped it from a sailor. It’s from the Scallop.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
She nods. “I thought you should have it.”   
  
“Thank you,” you say. Your voice shakes and you dive at her. You hug her tightly and she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her arms. She rests them on your back and pats you softly.   
  
“What are friends for?” She asks.   
  
So much for having her head on a stake.   
  
“This is lovely and all, but we don’t have much time,” Mattie says.   
  
“Right,” you say with a nod.   
  
“Your hat is hanging on the rack by the door,” Carmilla says. Her tone is easy now, as if your moment together has passed. You stand and go to follow Mattie.   
  
“Keep it in your collection,” you say.   
  
“I’ll be sure to cherish it with the rest of this trash,” Carmilla says.   
  
“Not funny,” you say. “I love that hat.”   
  
“Very funny,” she replies.   
  
You feel it again, that strange feeling. It’s familiar, and it shouldn’t be. She’s dead, and she shouldn’t be.   
  
“I’ll be back in an hour, governor-blood free. I’ll expect claws and steel if I’m not,” Mattie calls. You follow her and wave to the king. This has been your time of sailing with pirates. It’ll all be over soon. It’ll all be paperwork and Lawrence’s screaming and awkward explanations. No more stories, no more sails, no more jokes. You sigh and you follow Mattie to the dingy. You’ll row in, you’ll see the old idiot, and it’ll all be gone.   
  
You’ll wake up like it was all a bad dream tomorrow.   
  
Except it was almost a good dream.   
  
Your head begins to spin and you wonder if you hit it again as Mattie begins to row. The sight of Pascal at night is nothing special. You can’t see the pastel colors of the houses and shops, only dim lights in the distance. The trees around the town are threatening hordes of shadows waiting to consume you. This is a town of business. This is where people go to deal in legal piracy. You bow your head and your fingers begin to fidget.   
  
“It’ll all be over soon, little one,” Mattie says softly.   
  
“I know,” you say. You reach for the flag remnant in your jacket pocket. It’s the last piece of her you have. Your friend gave you this, your frustrating, murderous friend.   
  
“Did she tell you?” Mattie asks.   
  
“It’s from the Scallop,” you reply. Mattie sighs.   
  
“It is,” she replies.   
  
“I wanted to kill all of you, you know,” you admit.   
  
“I’m well aware,” she replies. “Do you still?”   
  
“I feel like I should want to.”   
  
“Maybe you should,” Mattie says. “We can all go back to hating each other after this is over. Blood does help a girl’s complexion, you know.”  
  
You nod silently and stare at the flag in your lap. This is the last piece of her you have. Your friend gave you this, your frustrating, murderous, friend who wants you to live.   
  
“Looks like you’ll have to deal with a few blemishes,” you say. “I won’t go down without a fight.”   
  
“It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”   
  
Your frustrating, murderous, mysterious friends, who you want to keep alive.   
  
Mattie rows in silence with a few instructions. You’re to seem strong, as to keep your reputation in good standing. You’re to keep quiet and let Mattie do all the talking. You’re to keep an eye on every guard. You promise to do your best, and Mattie promises you’ll be home by morning. She docks you safely away from the docks.   
  
“Best not to be seen,” she says. “We have a lot of business partners here, but it doesn’t mean there’s an open invitation.”   
  
“Right,” you say with a nod. You turn back once and look to the sea. You can’t see the panther from here, but you know it’s there, waiting. You know she’ll come if something goes wrong. You’re safe, you think.   
  
You make your way first through trees, then through alleyways. Mattie keeps her head low and you keep your eyes on the few who pass you by. No one seems to notice your Silas colors, or at the very least, doesn’t care. You follow Mattie through the hazy glow of the financial district. Not a single coin purse leaves full unless you own a business here. You scoff and spit on a few of their doors.   
  
“Low profile, darling,” Mattie reminds you.   
  
You keep your spit to yourself and follow her. You walk to a grand building. The iron gate in the front has a large V shaped in the center. Mattie tests to see if it will open and it does. The gray of the stone building seems to swallow the night and ward off the colors of the once delightful beach town. Mattie walks up to the door without a care and knocks three times. It opens slowly to a man in green with yellow accents.   
  
“Good evening,” he says.   
  
“I have an appointment,” Mattie says.   
  
“Of course, Ms. Belmonde, right this way.”   
  
You allow Mattie to walk first and then you follow behind her. You keep a hand on your sword as the room seems to smell of foul magic. There’s a weight to it, as if the most spiteful spirits have come for a meeting too. It’s just an old house, you think. You follow Mattie up the stairs and pause at a door as the doorman knocks three times.   
  
This will be the end of your time as a pirate.   
  
This will be a farewell to your murderous, mysterious, possibly cannibalistic, overly sarcastic friends.   
  
No matter what happens, though. You want them to live too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have you gotten yourself into now?! Friends?! What?! Can't believe it. Give me kudos and tell me how I did below! Share with me your theories and guesses (I'm sure I've dropped a few hints by now.)


	4. I Won't Leave You Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After four months, I believe an apology is in order. I've really missed this story, and trust me, I've tried several times to make sure this chapter came out the way it deserved. It's a bit shorter than some of the others, but full of emotion and a quite a bit of action. To those of you who have waited for this, thank you, and I hope it was well worth the wait. I've already started working on Chapter 5, and I hope to bring the crew of the Panther back to you again soon. (The next one gets a lot of Carm/Laura interaction!)

You’ve never been to the jungle, but you can imagine you’re lost in it now.    
  
The mossy green walls surrounding you feel as though they consume any light that touches them. Four grim faces await in every corner, guards with their swords resting under their hands. They are vipers waiting in these trees, and their strike could be your fall. The proudest viper waits behind a desk, venom practically dribbling down his wrinkled chin. He stands with a greasy smile and you have to contain yourself. You’re a rabbit, caught in vines, hoping that the lion beside you can set you free. You’re close to home, it’s just on the other side of these trees. You keep your eye on the man ahead and try to remain focused. Home is so close, it’s almost over.    
  
“Ms. Belmonde! What an absolute pleasure!” Vordenburg says proudly. You watch him shake Mattie’s hand, though she seems reluctant to touch him.    
  
“The pleasure is all mine, governor,” she lies.    
  
“And who’s this? Governor Hollis? Why fraulein, I’m most pleased with your return,” Vordenburg says with a chuckle. There’s something off about him, something all too happy even for him. You attempt an answer, but Mattie cuts in. Right, you’re a rabbit.    
  
“The governor’s return is actually up for negotiation,” Mattie says with a sharp smile. It leaves a tingle through your spine. She’s your friend, you try to remember, she wants you to live.    
  
“Negotiation? Why, I haven’t negotiated the return of a captive since my military days! I remember just a few years ago, off the coast of Lustig, I was-”    
  
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Mattie interjects. The governor seems lost in a nostalgic daze before he speaks again:   
  
“What is it you desire in return?”    
  
“I simply ask that you neglect the terms of our previous contract. The Eresh stole our only opportunity, and I hate to leave loose ends. After all, there are only so many places where a girl can get a pint after a bloodbath and I wouldn’t want to ruin our reputation with your lovely, little town.”    
  
“I did hear about the tragedy. That added quite a bit to your bounty, Ms. Belmonde. Your head is selling for a hefty price.”    
  
“It always has,” Mattie answers. “But I offer you the glory of returning the governor home, safe and sound. All I ask is that I’m free to sail again.”   
  
Vordenburg sits back in his chair and thinks for a moment. His smile never drops, not for a second. You can practically see fangs shining between his lips. You look to Mattie whose smile is worn even more proudly. She thinks she’s won. He’ll be the hero, you’ll still be the rabbit, but the lioness will be free.   
  
“Unfortunately, Ms. Belmonde, a better offer has been made,” Vordenburg shrugs. “I’m afraid I must decline.”    
  
“What offer could possibly be better than glory, fame, and perhaps a reward?” Mattie asks. Her smile has begun to slip and your fear is becoming real. Your heart skips a beat, then two, and for a moment you feel as though you’re dying. Maybe you are.    
  
“I’ll still have all those things! That’s what makes the offer so great,” Vordenburg laughs. “Is it safe to assume you didn’t cross the navy in your travels?”    
  
Mattie thinks and so do you. You passed a trading vessel, but nothing else, even when steering close to Lustig. You process it for just a moment, and your heart drops into your stomach.    
  
“What are you playing at, old man?” Mattie bites.    
  
“Playing at? Why nothing, fraulein. It’s just that the Tidecaller came back with no governor on board, and its captain told a wonderful tale of fighting and pirates. The commodore couldn’t stand by and believe her dear friend was missing without help, could she?”    
  
“They set up a trap,” you say. Your breathing is heavy, but you try to mask it.    
  
“And you the bait, in a way,” Vordenburg replies. “Isn’t that just marvelous?”    
  
“I believe you and I have different definitions of the word,” Mattie replies curtly.    
  
“Mattie saved my life,” you say. “That has to count for something.”    
  
“One life against thousands? Against a ship from your own fleet? Why governor, I’m shocked! You would stand by this villain?”    
  
“It doesn’t seem like you have the cleanest record yourself,” you bark. “Mattie goes free, you can have your glory for returning me home.”    
  
“I don’t believe you’re in a position to bargain anymore,” Vordenburg says. He snaps his fingers and you hear swords unsheathing themselves in each corner. Home is no longer beyond the trees. You are a rabbit, thrown in the jungle, praying someone has a way out.    
  
“I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with, old man,” Mattie says. Her hands are on her revolvers now. She’ll devour him before she falls, that you know. There’s no way this won’t end in blood.    
  
“You may be a legend, Ms. Belmonde, but fairy tales don’t fare well against steel. As for you, governor, I do hope you’ll make the right choice. After all, should you fight with her, you’ll never see Silas again.”    
  
Mattie saved your life. She’s your friend and you want her to live. She’s a lion, standing with a rabbit, ready to take down a thousand vipers if it means you both live.    
  
“I can’t let you do this, I’ll make a plea to the king if I have to, someone will believe me, someone will listen.”    
  
“To the girl who ran away looking for her lost love? And sided with pirates? Oh no, governor Hollis, I’m afraid you haven’t a voice anymore. Though, I can give you one more chance, to share in the glory with me, to take down the dreaded pirate king!”    
  
You think for a moment, just one. You look to Mattie and her cutting glare. She saved your life, and you want her to live. This is wrong, and you can’t stand by it. But if you don’t? You’ll never see Silas again. Not your friends, not your people. Everyone you love will think you died a traitor.    
  
“No,” you say sternly. You draw your sword and take a firm stance. “I owe her my life.”    
  
“Fine then, this will make a marvelous story! Arrest the traitor and the pirate at once!”    
  
“I hope you have a plan,” you whisper to Mattie.    
  
“Destroying anyone in our way and getting out of here alive,” Mattie replies. Her revolvers spin around her fingers as your sword clashes with a guard’s. Your body feels heavy against your mind, but you have to shake it. You hear Mattie’s revolver behind you and a body hits the floor. One wrong move, and you die a traitor.    
  
You refocus as the second guard to your side swings for your back. You twist, knocking the guard at your blade off his footing and catching the second blade. You step back as you hear Mattie’s second revolver from just behind you.    
  
“Catch up, little one,” she says cheerfully as you begin to dance with your opponents. They’re fast, but you’re faster.    
  
“Trying not to get blood on the carpet,” you reply. You make a clean hit against the second guard’s shoulder and he drops his blade. The first swings at you and Mattie replies with a shot to his gut just under your arm.    
  
“I think it’ll look better in red,” Mattie replies. The second guard makes for the door and you’re sure more are on their way.    
  
“How many bullets do you have in those exactly?” you ask.    
  
“Enough to get us out of the building,” Mattie replies.    
  
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Vordenburg chimes in. “What Silas can do on water, Pascal can do better on land. Remember our pristine army is what won us the war against Lichston!”    
  
Mattie turns to him with her revolver at the ready. She aims straight for his head and cocks it.    
  
“Mattie, no,” you say.    
  
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t,” she replies.    
  
“Maybe that?” you reply. Mattie turns and you both hear the loud stomps of boots on the stairs. Two by two, a whole lot of trouble is coming your way. Mattie redirects her aim at the doorway and you ready your sword. The first guard is met with a bullet, the second with your steel. You slow them with precise blocking; she finishes them with a steady aim.    
  
Two by two, they begin to fall. You grow tired, and in a way, sick. These are innocent men and they are dying with the help of your blade. This is war, something you’ve felt, and something you haven’t missed. You hear the click of an empty gun, then another click. She’s out of bullets and you’re taking on two guards at once. You block one as he comes for your left side, then the other as he comes for your right. Mattie comes for the one at the left, his neck snapping in her hands. You gulp and push against the other’s sword hard, knocking him into the wall. You can’t kill him, so you flip your blade and knock him hard with the handle against his skull.    
  
“We have to make a run for it,” you say as you turn. Only Mattie can’t reply. She’s just barely standing with a sword coming through her stomach. You hear more reinforcements coming for you, but you can’t care. You just stare in awe with a hole in your chest.    
  
“Mattie!” You yell.    
  
“This is-” she coughs. “Nothing.” Her voice is weak and when Vordenburg retracts the blade, she drops. He heaves the blade through her chest and you let out a scream.    
  
“No! No!” You run over and drop to your knees.    
  
“She should have come willingly,” Vordeburg says with a shrug. He drops the blade beside him. “It has been quite entertaining to watch your feeble attempt at escape, fraulein, but I have a big day tomorrow. Do us a favor and surrender.”    
  
“She was my friend,” you say with your hand on Mattie’s chest. “She saved my life.”    
  
“You can take her with you to your cell if you like! A reminder of your decisions, perhaps?”    
  
“How can you be so cruel!? You dusty, idiotic, greedy, ancient windbag!”    
  
“Call me what you like, fraulein. Tomorrow I will be a national hero, and you will be at the gallows. Guards, take her away.”    
  
Your sword falls to the ground and you clutch Mattie’s body. Three guards have to pull you from the ground, as you can’t seem to stand on your own. She’s your friend, and you wanted her to live. She saved your life, you should be the one on the ground. A guard picks her up and slings her over his shoulder and you want to fight him. You want to demand she’s treated with respect, but come tomorrow, you’ll die a traitor, and everything around you feels distant.    
  
You’re walked from the house, out onto the streets. Townsfolk watch from their homes as you’re lead to the jail, surrounded by soldiers. You feel tears pepper your cheeks and the people around you turn into a blur. You can’t look at them. You’re lower than any of them now. Even the drunks from the pub have stopped their gambling to gawk at you. Parents hide their children, nosy elders peer from their windows. These aren’t your people, yet tomorrow you’ll die under their gaze.    
  
You reach the jail and of course, they give you a cell you wouldn’t give to your worst criminals. There’s a fungus in the corner full of insects, and the walls seem to drip from nowhere. They push you inside and drop Mattie on the floor.    
  
“I do hope you like it,” Vordenburg says as a soldier locks the door. You don’t turn to look at him. “I’m sure your dear friend the pirate king will enjoy his too!”    
  
Carmilla.    
  
You hadn’t even thought of it. The whole crew will come through the town soon, and there will be too many cautious eyes for them to go unnoticed. They’ll either be dead, or trapped, and you have no way to warn them.    
  
“Get out,” you say.    
  
“My pleasure, see you in the morning!”    
  
You wait until he leaves to move. You place your hands under Mattie’s arms and pull her with all your might. You feel your muscles ache and you know you haven’t got much left in you. You collapse against the wall and slide to the floor. You place Mattie’s head in your lap and brush her hair from her face. She’s gone cold and your body trembles, but you have no tears left to cry.    
  
“I’m so sorry Mattie,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, any of it. I wanted you to live,” you say. “I just wanted to find her, to find answers, why didn’t I listen?”    
  
“Quiet over there! Somma us are tryin’ to sleep off our drink!” a man a few cells down screams.    
  
You don’t spare him a glance, nor a word. You just wish you could say the same as him. You try to remember something good, anything good. Someone you didn’t manage to get killed or lose. But, you couldn’t save anyone. Not LaFontaine, not Mattie, not Mircalla, not even your own father.    
  
“Life is can be short or endless, not in time, but in heart. Don’t let yours be short,” you say, barely a whisper. Those were the words of an old friend, a dear friend. Someone you lost, and someone you could use now. You remember your first real talk with him and try to focus on it. What would he say now?   
  
_ “Ah, Captain Hollis,” a memory finds you.  _ __   
__   
_ “Your majesty.” You curtsied the best you could in uniform.  _ __   
__   
_ “I assume you know why you’re here,” he replied.  _ __   
__   
_ “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” you said nervously. You were lying, in a way.  _ __   
__   
_ “I’m sorry to say this,” he said with a pause. “But we have to stop searching.”  _ __   
__   
_ Your heart could have given out entirely at that moment. With just another month, a week, even a minute, maybe you could find something, anything.  _ __   
__   
_ “But we’re so close and-”  _ __   
__   
_ “I know, captain, but it’s been years now. The Karnsteins were special to me too. That Edgar was the only one who could best me at cards, you know,” he let out a light chuckle, but there was something so sad in his memory. He missed them too, and you knew it. “This place, Silas, it’s special too.”  _ __   
__   
_ “It is, but-”  _ __   
__   
_ “Laura,” the old king said. There were tears nestled in his wrinkles, just above his sweet smile. “You know as well as I do that Silas has been too long without someone to care for it. If I could let you and the Tidecaller search the depths and bring them home, I would. But, I need you here.”  _ __   
__   
_ “You can’t possibly-” you paused. “I mean, you don’t mean, you can’t possibly mean- me?” _ __   
__   
_ “I do. Silas needs someone passionate, someone clever, who knows where good lies in the hearts of men. That person is you.”  _ __   
__   
_ “I- I just. I wouldn’t even know how to run a town.”  _ __   
__   
_ “Well then, we better get started, governor. We have much to do.”  _ __   
__   
_ We have much to do.  _ __   
  
The calls of soldiers upstairs signal that Carmilla has made her way into town. You expect steel and blood on both sides. “She’s coming, Mattie,” you say. “Maybe-” you pause. You have much to do, but so little faith in yourself.    
  
Maybe, just maybe, you need to place your faith somewhere else.    
  
“Maybe if Carmilla can hold them off, she can get the keys,” you say. “I’ll carry you all the way to the docks, I promise I won’t leave you behind.”    
  
You hear a thundering roar above you and you could swear you were in a dream, or back in your metaphorical jungle. A roar like that would come from something big, and very, very angry. You brace yourself for whatever is coming, be it pirates or soldiers, and hold Mattie close to you.    
  
“I won’t leave you behind,” you repeat.    
  
You hear screams and a struggle as boots hit the stairs. The guard watching the cells is hit with a bullet and for the first time in the hour, you feel real hope.    
  
“Governor Hollis!” a sailor calls. “And Ms. Belmonde! We’ve found them!”    
  
He’s lead by a large black cat that begins to pace in front of your cell. It lets out a low growl as he struggles with the keys. This is the first time you’ve seen his face, and it’s covered in blood. No time for questions. No time for mysterious answers.   
  
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles to the cat. You want to question it, but there’s no time. You scoop Mattie in your arms and try to stand. You’re shaky, but you promised.    
  
“What happened?!” The sailor asks.    
  
“She was stabbed, twice,” you say. “She’s gone.”    
  
“Stabbed with what?” he asks as you walk her out of your cell. The cat beside you growls.    
  
“Does it matter?”   
  
“Aye,” he answers plainly as you hurry behind him up the stairs.   
  
“A sword!”    
  
“Thank the sea and all her glory! Come on boys, we got em’!”    
  
The crew awaits you in the office, their faces much like his, covered in blood. The farther you go, the more bodies and claw marks you find. No time for questions, you remind yourself. No time for mysterious answers. You follow the crew out of the jail and into the streets. There are civilians with torches, soldiers with swords. You just have to be faster. Which, with a body in your hands, starts to prove difficult. You hug onto Mattie tightly and run as fast as your body will allow.    
  
We have much to do.    
  
“Cut through there!” you yell. You’re close to the shore now, though people seem to be appearing from every place you turn. The pirates make quick work of them. Torn throats, snapped necks, and smashed skulls litter the ground behind you. As you make your way through the alley, you see a blockade ahead.    
  
“I’m not fast enough!” you yell. The black cat pulls back with a low growl. It nods towards its’ back as if to tell you to hop on.    
  
“You’re kidding me,” you say. The cat growls again and a pirate pulls behind.    
  
“Get yer ass movin’!” he yells.    
  
“Take Mattie, and be careful,” you say.    
  
“I don’t take orders from ye!”    
  
The cat glares at him and he scoffs. “Fine!”    
  
He takes Mattie from your arms and runs to catch up with the others. They’re already tearing through the people ahead. You run to join them, and the cat stays just behind you. She’s watching your back, quite literally. You don’t even know how to thank a cat other than a basket of fish. You make your way down to the shore and you can hear shouting behind you. They’re growing close again and you barely feel that you can make it just a few more feet.    
  
It is not a matter of time.    
  
It is a matter of heart.    
  
You push yourself into the water as the dingy begins to drift. You hear the cat splashing around behind you. It climbs into the other dingy, nearly tipping it over.    
  
“We made it,” you whisper to Mattie. The others don’t seem to hear it, or at the very least, you ignore it.    
  
“We’ll have to set a course into enemy waters. Not even Lustig would cross over there.”    
  
“No, no! We’ll have to set sail for the Angler’s Nest. Not a single sailor would brave those waters.”    
  
“I’d wager they’ll block our way back home, too, the bastards.”    
  
You listen to the crew squabble as your body starts to give in. You start to recline, and with a mixture of shouts in your ears, you still manage to drift off.    
  
“Let’s go home,” you say to no one in particular.    
  
Let’s go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One hell of a chapter for story, eh? Like I said, stay tuned for more Carmilla and Laura interaction, and a voyage like no other. You're on the run, out of time, but not out of heart!


	5. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, apologies are in order. My life got flipped, turned upside down and this story was all but lost. Luckily, I came into a wealth of time and energy today, and thought this beast deserved a second chance. I'm already half-way done chapter six. 
> 
> As for this chapter, it's dedicated to vampire_chunks. I hope you're still around. <3 And to everyone else who has waited so long for this. 
> 
> It's full of action and CRAMMED full of hollstein. I've edited it about twenty times trying to balance out the emotions and timing. A chapter in which a lot is revealed, but our dear governor is still in the dark about who Carmilla really is. It's a very romantic chapter (side from the decapitations, of course.) There's a flashback to Mircalla, and our two idiots get closer to each other in the present. 
> 
> Please enjoy! I'm still combing over for any minor mistakes, but please leave comments/suggestions!
> 
> Enjoy, mateys!

You came here to be at least a little, somewhat helpful.  
  
Unfortunately, your mind is scattered. Anything sort of strategy you could hope to scrap together is far in the back of your mind. You can’t stop thinking about Mattie. You stayed at her bedside when you woke up. You changed her bandages, you searched for her pulse. Nothing. You noticed her wounds closing, but you passed it off as wishful thinking. The crew assured you she’d be fine, but you couldn’t believe them. With the push of a man named Peggy, you came to help the captain. Only, you’ve just been sitting here, watching her. You haven’t said a word since you got to her quarters. You just watch her steady back and forth, you listen to her boots hitting the wood. You sway with the sea, lost in your own world.  
  
She sticks a knife in the map on the wall, and you wonder if she’s gotten it. She removes the knife with a huff, and your shoulders slump. She goes back to her steady pace, the back and forth you’ve found a rhythm in. You open your mouth once, to suggest Silas of all places. But, you shut it, passing it off as more wishful thinking. You try to think, of somewhere, anywhere. Yet, all you can think of is Silas. Of Perry, of JP, of the kids who will never hear your stories again.   
  
Maybe you could- no. It won’t work, nothing will. So instead, you watch Carmilla, who seems at least more focused, if nothing else.  
  
She grumbles and mumbles again, and you try to make out audible words. You can’t. You just sit on her bed, watching. You’re the only one invited to your pity party for now.   
  
“If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them,” she says, soft but with just enough force. Her eyes are focused on the map, her fingers trace the shorelines.   
  
“Me?” you ask.  
  
“No, the armoire. Yes, you.”   
  
“Well, there’s always Silas?” You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.  
  
She laughs, and it’s the first time she hasn’t sounded entirely stressed in over an hour.   
  
“We’d be dead before we hit the docks,” she says.   
  
“Maybe if they know I’m on board, I can coax them into a deal,” you say. Even you don’t believe you.  
  
“Ah, yes, maybe we can bargain for a better executioner, I hear that guy from Lustig makes it quick.”  
  
“Joseph, yeah,” you say. “He’s actually a really nice guy, his wife is- uh, this isn’t helping.”  
  
“You know everyone there is to know, Laura. And everyone either loves or fears you, there has to be somewhere you know to go.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say everyone,” you chuckle. “And Silas is really the only place I know as truly safe. Though, I guess I can’t even say that anymore.”  
  
She stabs the knife into the wall and sighs. You look at where she’s stuck it, but you’re distracted by her turning on her heels. She looks at you with those stupid, familiar, endless eyes. She looks almost afraid, no, sad. She walks over with a sigh and takes a seat beside you. She takes off her ridiculous hat and tosses it to the ground.   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Why isn’t Silas safe? You said it yourself, we’re dead before we even-”  
  
“No,” she stops you. “You could have turned Mattie in. You could have turned me in. You could be in Silas, right now, celebrating with the king. So, why?”  
  
“Because I-” you start, but you look at her. You look at those big, stupid, beautiful eyes. You look at how worried she is, and you realize, she’s not worried about herself. She’s not worried about Mattie, or her crew.  
  
She’s worried about you.  
  
“Because,” you sigh. “You’re not as terrible as you seem. A murderer? Yeah. A pirate? The worst of the worst. But, you took care of me. You brought me food, you kept me safe when you could. You told Mattie to make sure I lived. So maybe, for some reason, I’m making sure you live. Maybe it’s just fair, or maybe it’s because you seem so familiar, or whatever. But I made my choice, and I’m sticking by it.”  
  
She nods and her thumbs start tumbling around one another.   
  
“Now that is the Laura Hollis I’ve been waiting to see.”  
  
“What?” you ask.  
  
“You’ve never seen my face, you don’t know who I really am. You barely know anything about me. Yet there you are, making sure I, the worst of the worst, live. Some would call you an idiot, hell, maybe even I would, but you’re my- _our_ idiot. So we’re gonna do our best to make sure you don’t die, or something worse.”  
  
“How kind,” you say, quite sarcastically.   
  
“I do my best,” she says with a shrug.   
  
A silence settles between you. A soft, gentle silence that seems to carry you the way the waves do. There’s all this mess out in the world. Your friends probably hate you, your town wants you dead. People you served with want you stripped of everything you’ve worked for. Everything is, well, shit. And then there’s this big, stupid, pirate, who wants to make sure you don’t die. None of it makes sense, as much as you want it to. You really don’t know her, but you want to. You want to know everything and anything. You want to do something very, very, idiotic.  
  
“Carmilla,” you say.   
  
“Yeah?” she asks. She looks at you, and her thumbs stop moving. It’s like she’s frozen. So much for the worst of the worst.   
  
“I uhm, if we make it out of this, you know- alive. Would you uh-”  
  
You’re interrupted by someone tumbling through the cabin door. Carmilla takes a firm stance in what seems like less than a second. She has her sword halfway unsheathed but it slides right back when she realizes who it is. You stand too and start sprinting.   
  
“Mattie!” You yell, quite happily. “I’m so glad you’re-”  
  
“Hug me, and it is the last thing you’ll ever do, Hollis.”  
  
“Right!” you stop dead in your tracks and put your arms stiff by your sides. “Can I still say I’m glad you’re alive?”  
  
Mattie lets out a low, pained laugh. She’s holding her stomach and she winces every time she takes a step.   
  
“Maybe you should sit down,” Carmilla says.   
  
“No time,” Mattie says. “I was awoken by the crew screaming. I’m amazed you didn’t hear it. Apparently someone opened a cage for feeding time.”  
  
“You’ve got to be joking,” Carmilla says.  
  
“Uh- feeding time?” you ask, though you wish you hadn’t.   
  
“Laura, stay here. Understand?” Carmilla asks.   
  
“But I want to help!” You protest.   
  
“Trust me, little one, this isn’t your fight,” Mattie says, almost sincere, almost seething.   
  
“But-”   
  
You don’t get to continue your protest. You hear the screams through the open door. Mattie is the first to turn and run toward the danger. Carmilla is the second. You don’t get a chance to wish them luck, or ask any questions. You just get a door slammed behind them in response. You go to run out there, to fight alongside them. You skid to a halt as Carmilla’s words ring in your ears. _Stay here._   
  
You back up and plop down on the bed. There’s something incredible happening out there. There’s a life or death fight, and here you are, at the children’s table. You let out a deep sigh. You’re a master swordsman. You’re a tactical mastermind. You could fight anyone. Sure, you’d be a couple feet shorter than them, and maybe not physically as strong. But, still! You know your stuff.   
  
You try to force yourself to accept your position, to know that they’ll look out for each other. It doesn’t seem to work. Your legs start bouncing and you start getting antsy. You have no idea if they’re okay. You don’t even know who’s up there, or what.   
  
Then comes the scream. The gut-wrenching, ear-shattering scream.   
  
“Carmilla!” you yelp.  
  
You jump to your feet and make a mad dash for the door. You yank it open and something seems to come at you. Or, well, fall at your feet. A headless body, to be precise. You yelp and jump backwards. What the hell is happening up here? You eye it over, and once you’re sure it isn’t Carmilla, you press forward.   
  
Once you hit the deck, you sort of wish you hadn’t.   
  
You see bodies, everywhere. Most of the crew has been decapitated. The deck is covered in sanguine pools. You try not to vomit at the smell. You look forward and find Carmilla, Mattie, and two crew members circled about the wheel. What’s at the wheel, you really aren’t sure. You see a human-like figure with its skeleton poking at its skin. It looks positively starved, whatever it is. You watch it sniff the air, then growl unlike any animal you’ve ever heard.   
  
You look to Carmilla, then to Mattie, who both keep their eyes fixed on it. You look back to it, and it looks you dead in the eyes. Its eyes are a deep crimson, no pupil, no iris, just red. Just empty pits of blood staring at you. You gulp as you realize that what it smelled, was you. It growls again and you see its teeth and fangs the size of your hands.   
  
“Laura! Run!” Carmilla calls.   
  
You cut to the right and you hear Carmilla bark orders at the crew. You slide through a puddle of blood and make a jump for the shrouds. You manage to get a grip on the ropes, but the wind is against you. You hear footsteps all around you, but you refuse to look down.   
  
“Should have stayed put,” you tell yourself.   
  
You reach for the next line of ropes, but you feel something grab your ankle. You look down to see the creature, and it hisses at you. Its nostrils flare as it tries to yank you off the shrouds. You look left, you look right, but you don’t see your so-called friends.   
  
“Guys! Little help?!”   
  
“Just hang on, Laura!”   
  
“What does it look like I’m doing?!”   
  
“Mouthing off when you should be climbing!” Mattie screams.   
  
You close your eyes tight and kick the creature where its nose should be. It loosens its grip just enough that you can start to pull yourself higher. Much to your dismay, the creature has other plans. It jumps and snags your ankle and with the might of a damn bear, it yanks you down. You hit the deck and pray that nothing important broke. You look up and find the creature staring down at you with an intense hunger.   
  
“Mattie, now!”   
  
“Wait for it!”   
  
“Uh...now would be great!” You call back.   
  
You scramble backwards, but you’re shaking too hard to stand. Your hand grips some sort of handle behind you, and you hope it’s a weapon. You pull on it and unsheath a sword from the belly of a corpse. You hold it in front of you and you watch the blade shake with your body. You trust Carmilla, you care about Carmilla. You just have to hope she really does share the sentiment.   
  
“Carmilla!”   
  
“Did you really think I’d let you down? Sweetheart, I’m crushed.”   
  
You look directly above you to find Carmilla with a sword in each of her hands. They’re both covered in some sort of black goo.   
  
“Not funny!”   
  
“At least kind of funny.”   
  
She sprints forward and takes a precise swing at the creature. It switches its focus to her and narrowly dodges her. She realigns her stance and waits for her next move. It makes a loose, aggressive swing at her with its fist. She carefully dodges, almost effortlessly. She takes the open window and slides her boots to get behind it. It goes to turn, but it’s too late for it. Carmilla swipes her dual blades together, and in one clean motion leaves it headless like the rest of the bodies.   
  
You hear a shot ring through the air, and both you and Carmilla look toward it. Mattie is fighting another creature. How did you even miss it? Mattie isn’t doing so well, she still hasn’t fully healed. The two remaining crew members each jump toward it, but they’re clumsy, untrained. You look back at Carmilla, who is already on the move. She’s rushing toward them.   
  
You push yourself to your feet to go and join the fight. But by the time you take your first steps, another crew member is dead. The creature manages to latch onto it and pull his head clean off.   
  
“Laura! Stay back!”   
  
You listen this time. You listen and you watch in terror. Mattie is starting to get even slower. Carmilla, however, is still in her element. She draws its attention and seems to dance with it. It moves, she follows. It lunges, she dodges. Mattie takes advantage of the distraction and grabs hold of its shoulder and wraps an arm around its chin. You don’t see what happens exactly, but you see its body slump to the ground, without a head.   
  
It’s just you now. You and them. Carmilla, Mattie, and the man you now know as Peggy.   
  
You take slow, uneasy steps toward them. You feel like you’re going to collapse. It all happened so fast, too fast. You don’t even know necessarily what happened.   
  
“Please tell me this is just a bad dream!” You say.   
  
Carmilla walks toward you and you practically fling yourself into her arms. She wraps her arms around you and holds you there. It’s the first time in days you’ve felt safe.   
  
“What was that?” you ask.   
  
“It’s a long story.”   
  
“One you’re actually going to tell me?”   
  
Carmilla hesitates. You hear boots come near you with an offbeat step.   
  
“I think it’s time, Carmilla,” Mattie says.   
  
“Peggy,” Carmilla says. “Is anyone else alive?”   
  
“No, cap’n. Just us.”   
  
“Great,” she says with a grim tone. “I gotta handle this. Can you watch the wheel?”   
  
“Aye, cap’n. My pleasure.”   
  
“Mattie, get some rest. We’ll clean this up after.”  
  
“All this blood is going to be hell on the wood, you know,” Mattie says.   
  
“You need your rest, now go,” Carmilla orders.   
  
“Fine, _captain_. But get on clean up as soon as you’re done.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Carmilla dismisses. You feel her shift, but you don’t let go.   
  
“You gonna stay in my arms forever? I mean, I’m real flattered and all, I just thought you might want that explanation.”   
  
“I can’t have both?” You say without thinking. You immediately bite your tongue when you hear her snicker.   
  
“Sure you can, just not here.”   
  
You step back and stiffen at the entire ordeal. You felt safe there, with her, despite the fact that she almost let you die. She waves for you to follow her, and you do. You notice in your short walk that you can smell it for the first time, the magick. Though as you step over corpses, you think it may just be death you smell. Carmilla leads you to her cabin and asks you to shut the door behind you. You do, and you follow her to sit on her bed. You keep a reasonable distance and stare at the floor. Your hands still shake in your lap.   
  
“Are you okay?” she asks.   
  
“Of course not,” you say and your voice cracks. “I heard a scream and I thought you were going to die, Carmilla.”   
  
“Me? Die? Never.”   
  
“Can you please just be serious for ten seconds!?” you shout.   
  
“I’m sorry. It’s kind of a reflex at this point.”   
  
“Yeah well, I thought you were going to die, so pardon me for not wanting to be casual about it. Then, I run out there and there’s a thing. I don’t even know what kind of thing! I’ve never seen anything like it. And it came after me, and you weren’t there.”   
  
“I know I was trying to stave the other one off of Mattie, I-”  
  
“I know that now. But for that moment, I didn’t. I was alone with that monster. And I didn’t know if you were okay. And then I thought that was it. That was the end. My stories were over and any stories anyone ever heard of me would be that I was a traitor. A traitor that died chasing myths, that are apparently true. I was so scared, Carm.”   
  
“Hey, Laura,” she says softly. You feel her palm against your cheek as her arms loop around you. You feel her thumb wipe away tears you didn’t know were there. You feel it again, that safety.   
  
“You don’t have to worry about me, okay? And those monsters? They’re never going to hurt you as long as I’m around. And I intend to be around for as long as possible. We’re going to get you home, one way or another. I’ll fix this, even if I don’t know how.”  
  
“That’s the problem, Carm. I want this to be home.”  
  
“What?”   
  
“This, and all its mystery, and all its danger. It just feels right. Like I’ve gone back in time and I’m me again. Not the me that fought the kraken, just me. Just little Laura Hollis doing her best.”   
  
“Laura, I want you here, okay? I want to make that clear. But those monsters, they’re just the beginning of what you’ll see here.”   
  
“You said they wouldn’t hurt me, right?”   
  
“And they won’t. But, there’s more to it.”   
  
“Then tell me,” you say. You look at her. You look into those dark, familiar, stupid eyes. You realize, she’s crying too. Only her tears are darker, crimson even. She’s crying blood. It pools around her mask and stains the fabric.   
  
“Are you-?”  
  
“Yes,” she says. “Those monsters, I’m one of them.”   
  
“What?!” You jump back and collide with the wall. She keeps her arms in front of her, her hands meant to calm you. It isn’t working.   
  
“I’m not going to be like them, I need you to understand that.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” you try to breathe, but you can’t. “Explain, please.”   
  
“Our mother finds us, I don’t know how she picks us, but we don’t get a choice in the matter. One minute we’re dead, the next minute we’re this.”   
  
“And what is this, exactly?”   
  
“Mattie prefers the term vampyr, she says it sounds more regal. We’ve been called all different forms of demonic things. Sirens, succubi, whatever you can think of.”   
  
“Vampyr. I’ve heard of them, they drink uh-”  
  
“Blood. Mostly human, it satisfies the most. But we can feed on practically anything in a pinch.”   
  
“Are you going to drink my blood?”   
  
“No,” she chuckles. “I have more control than that, as does Mattie. Those things you saw? They’re what happens to those that lose control. The hunger eats them alive. They turn into animals, driven by primal desires. They’ll do anything to fill the hunger, but they can’t. It’s almost tragic.”   
  
You think about those creatures. The one that came after you, you couldn’t imagine as a person. A person with feelings, a person who loved. A person with a family and friends. A person with a whole life ahead of them. All of that gone, replaced by that hunger. You almost felt bad for them, it really was tragic.   
  
“Are there more of them?”   
  
“Well, losing those two, we still have four more in the brig.”   
  
“What are you going to do with them?”   
  
“Usually, we throw them overboard. They don’t have to breathe, so they don’t die, but they aren’t such a hassle. They eat whatever swims by, or whatever falls in.”   
  
“Can they go back to being like you?”   
  
“In rare cases. I’ve never seen it happen, but Mattie has. She doesn’t like to talk about it though. Gives the crew too much hope.”   
  
“I trusted you,” you say. “And you hid this from me.”  
  
“I didn’t want you to hate me.”  
  
“I already hated you, I don’t see how this would have made it worse. At least I would have known.”  
  
“Do you hate me now?”   
  
You look at her, and she has that worry all across her face again. Only this time, she isn’t worried about your safety. She’s worried that you’ll never want to see her again. Part of you says she’s a monster, one that you can’t control. But hey, plenty of people said that about the sea.  
  
“My dad,” you say. “Always told me to be cautious. After my mom died, he was looking for every possible opportunity to lock me up and throw away the key. I was scared of everything when he left with the navy. I couldn’t even go outside for the longest time. Then two big men in uniform show up to take me to the orphanage, because my dad is never coming home.”  
  
“Laura, I didn’t know.”   
  
“Most people don’t. The last one who really knew what happened, was there, and now they’re gone too.”   
  
“LaFontaine.”  
  
“Yeah. LaF was an orphan too. We grew up together. They taught me everything. How to shop, how to play marbles, how to live.”   
  
“You miss them, don’t you?”   
  
“Of course I do. I just can’t even grieve because something is constantly happening now. I can’t even imagine how Perry feels.”   
  
“And it’s my fault they’re gone.”  
  
“Yeah, but, I don’t blame you as much as I should. You were attacked, you fought, I see that now.”  
  
“I offered to spare them.”  
  
“What?”   
  
“While Mattie was talking to the sailor that we sent back, I brought LaF here. I offered to send them home instead, but they refused. They said that a captain goes down with their ship. They gave me their captain’s hat to give to Perry.”   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
“I didn’t know how, or if you’d believe me. But, if you do, trust me, I knew they meant a lot to you. I didn’t know how much, but, I tried to send them home.”   
  
“I believe you,” you say. “I shouldn’t, but I do. And as much as I should hurt you for hurting them, I feel like I should be here. They taught me how to live again, and I feel like I should live as fiercely as possible. Especially since they didn’t get to.”  
  
This time, Carmilla lunges into your arms. You stiffen immediately, but relax just as fast. She loops her arms around your waist and she shakes. She shakes and she cries. She trembles every time you touch her. Her hair falls around your chest and you stroke it with your fingers, as gentle as you can.   
  
“You’re not a monster, Carmilla. You’re more than that.”   
  
She tightens her grip on you and you wonder if you’re saying the right thing.   
  
“I can’t forgive you, for the things you’ve done. But I can help you take hold of your future.”  
  
“You really think so, Laura?”   
  
“I do.”   
  
“Let’s go home,” she says.”Wherever that is now.”   
  
“We’re already here,” you reply.   
  
You’re already here.   
  
\-------X_X-------  
  
 _The garden is quiet other than distant cheering and hidden lovers. The night masks the cruelty of this world. You’re supposed to be inside, guarding, watching. But, thanks to the encouragement of your dear friend, you’re out here, fumbling over your words. You let out a tense sigh and stare into the rose bushes, hoping they’ll tell you a funny joke that you can tell the young woman beside you._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You’re awfully quiet for a sailor, you know.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I’m not accustomed to talking to pretty girls,” you say without thinking. “I mean uh- people with, stature and grace and I, should go back inside.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I’m just messing with you, Hollis, jeez.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Right,” you say. Your hands are shaking. You’re gonna get in so much trouble for this. “But, I really should go back, they’re going to wonder where I am.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I already told you, you’re escorting a countess on a walk through the garden. Can’t get much more bodyguard than that.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Okay,” you say._ _  
_ _  
_ _“How about a game?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Please don’t say hide-and-seek.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“As much fun as that sounds, I’m not hiding anywhere in this god-awful dress. How about I ask you a question, and you can ask me one in return?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Sounds fun, I can work with that.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Alright then, why the navy?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“My dad was in it, my best friend joined. Seemed like an easy decision.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Okay, now ask me a question?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Right! Uh, what’s your favorite flower?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Think of that all on your own, did you? Heather. What’s your favorite constellation?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _You look over at her, and she’s looking at the stars instead of where she’s going._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Very original yourself, I see. Orion.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _She belts out a laugh. “Just like every other eight-year-old I know.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“You are utterly vexatious, you know that?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“So are you, sweetheart. I’m counting that as a question. What do you do for fun?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I read maps and get into bar fights.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Maps I expected, bar fights, I did not.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Are we lost?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Is that really your question?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Ma’am, I’m serious. I have no idea where we are.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _You’d spent so much time focusing on her stupid, pretty face that you didn’t notice the path getting darker. You’re somewhere out in the maze and it’s entirely quiet. You can’t see the lights of the house, you can’t hear anyone near you. You’re completely lost. And as if on cue, it starts drizzling._ _  
_ _  
_ _“We just need to turn around, and don’t call me ma’am.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Right,” you say._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Hollis!” you hear in the distance._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Mircalla!” you hear a woman call._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Oh no. I am in big, big, trouble.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _You turn to start running back through the maze, but your elbow gets caught on something. Mircalla has her hand around your arm and she’s holding you in place._ _  
_ _  
_ _“We seriously need to get back, right now.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I get one more question.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Are you kidding me?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“No. Do you want to kiss me?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Uh- um. I really should not, as per my duties, but-”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Real smooth, sailor.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _You put your foot down and take a firm stance. You cup her face with your hands, and boy are you terrible at this. You collide your lips with hers and as much as your heart pounds, it doesn’t feel right. Your lips are tight and flat. But hers, hers are perfect. You break the hold as you hear your name get called again. You spend the entire way back giggling and yelling, pretending as if it hasn’t started pouring. The entire time you hold her hand._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Let’s get back to the party!” you yell._ _  
_ _  
_ _“We’re already here!” she yells back._ _  
_ _  
_ _You’re already here._  
  
\-----X_X------  
  
You awake with a slight jolt.   
  
Carmilla stirs against your chest, just enough to almost wake up. Only she stays asleep, snoring against you. You stroke her hair and smile. This is what people are afraid of. This woman, who cares entirely too much. This woman who you care entirely too much about. This woman who snores, and possibly drools. This monster who mumbles in her sleep.   
  
You look around the room and admire all the pieces strewn about. This view of the world like you’ve never seen it. You look at the map, and the knife wedged in it. You squint, recognizing the shore lines.   
  
Silas.   
  
That’s where she stuck the knife. You can’t imagine it was an accident. Had she considered taking you home? Had she considered keeping her promise to LaF? Return the hat, tell Perry what happened. Sheesh. How would Perry react? She’d probably demand her head on a plaque. She’d never even try to see them the way you do.   
  
You can’t pretend. You can’t act like she didn’t kill your friend, like she didn’t kidnap you, like she didn’t ruin your life.   
  
But, maybe it was a life worth ruining.   
  
Maybe a life stuck in the past would have been what her father wanted. But, not what you deserved. Maybe it was time to let Mircalla go.   
You wince at the thought. You loved her. You loved her more than you ever loved anyone. You loved her more than the sea, and she loved you more than she did the stars. You shake your head.   
  
It’s time.   
  
It’s time to let go, it’s time to give up the search. It’s a matter of heart.   
  
If only you had time.   
  
You hear a knock on the door and Carmilla jumps, sitting up in your lap.   
  
“What!?” she yells.   
  
“We got a ship following us, cap’n!” Peggy calls through the door.   
  
“Well, get rid of them!”   
  
“I’ve tried! The ship is too fast. They’re flyin’ Silas colors!”   
  
You and Carmilla both look at each other.   
  
“You ready for this?” she asks.   
  
“Not exactly,” you reply.   
  
“I’m with you, whatever you decide.” She says.   
  
It’s time-  
  
“Let’s do this, together.”   
  
-to let go.   
  
  
_To be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crying, you're crying. I'm gonna sleep for a week after this, but hopefully I'll see you all again soon!


	6. The Kiss That Shattered Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet mother of frick. So this chapter is about 18 pages long, and most of it is dialogue. But, it's very important dialogue. We see the return of two dear friends this chapter. And as you can guess by the chapter title, there may be some kissing involved. The kiss, however, comes with a price. 
> 
> Trust me, it was an agonizing experience for me to write, so have fun reading this monster. (And enjoy a huuuuuge plot reveal that confirms some of your guesses.) 
> 
> Want to listen while you read? I had three songs on repeat while writing this to get my tear juices flowing. "Everything Stays" from Adventure Time, "Last Night on Earth" by the American Idiot broadway cast, and "Take on me (acoustic)" by A-Ha. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy, or not. Bring tissues.

Any other time, it would be a beacon of hope.   
  
Your spyglass stays focused on it. That vibrant red, usually a proud display of your history. Now, it feels like an omen for your own blood. You try to focus on the crest, carefully constructed gold that reminds you of the warmth of your home. Home, you think. That word replays in your mind like a siren’s song. It lures you into a world of comfort that you wish was waiting for you. But then, there’s also the possibility is that all that awaits you is the gallows.   
  
You feel a light hand on your shoulder. A comforting thing, really. Carmilla is beside you, watching the ship approach. You scan the vessel only once, as if you wouldn’t know it even at a distance. That strong hunk of oak tearing through the sea the way the panther tears through flesh. Long ago, you’d be on that vessel, commanding your sailors to hunt down tales of pirates. Now you are the pirate tale, and you’re not sure you enjoy the change.   
  
“What’s the plan, sweetheart?”   
  
You twist your spyglass to sheath it within itself. You only stare out at the ship, your ship. It’s a matter of time. You hope they have at least one heart on board.   
  
“If it’s Lawrence or Armitage, I can talk to them.”   
  
“And if it’s not?”   
  
“Then I have a few choice words for whoever stole my vessel.”   
  
“Why do I have a feeling you want to turn around?”   
  
“Because it’s better than trying to run at this point. They won’t stop until they get us.”   
  
“I hope you know how much I’m trusting you here.”   
  
“I hope you know I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and Mattie get out alive.”   
  
“I suppose I do know that.”   
  
“Then let’s do this, together.”   
  
“Mattie! Turn us around! Peggy, get below deck!”   
  
Carmilla’s hand leaves your shoulder, and your heart sinks. It could be the last time she ever touches you. Today could be the closest you’ve ever been to a legend.   
  
“Do you have a deathwish I don’t know about?!” Mattie screams.   
Today could be the last day you call the Panther home. In a way, it breaks your heart. You turn to face Mattie who has an iron grip on the wheel. Even with her back toward you, you can only imagine the look on her face.  
  
“Just do it!” Carmilla screams back.   
  
“You better have a plan!”   
  
“I do!” You yell.   
  
“Why does that not make me feel better about this?!” Mattie screams.   
  
Still, she turns the wheel with force. Your boots almost slide against the dark wood beneath you as the ship groans. The bodies on the deck slide into disgusting, sweltering piles. They are certainly not going to help your case. You focus back on Mattie as she shouts obscenities even you’ve never heard. You wouldn’t repeat them either.   
  
“We’re on course, what’s the plan?”   
  
“We see what they have to say, and what’s currently going on back in Silas. We bargain for our lives- and, well, prayer. Lots of prayer.”   
  
“Truly a masterful strategy.”   
  
“It’s all we can do.”   
  
Carmilla nods and heads down to the main deck. You watch her body sway with the breeze. You watch her hair, like ink sprawling over pages. You watch her, and you wonder everything you could about her. You wonder what lies beneath dark eyes. You wonder where she’s really been, what stories she could tell. You imagine a world where you can bring her to Silas, where she can tell her stories to the children. You imagine a world where she isn’t a monster under the view of the world.   
  
You imagine a world where you were friends from the beginning. Your heart skips a beat, then two, as you go into a daze.   
  
Focus, your mind tells you. You need to focus on the task at hand. You need to find a way to tell a story, be it true or false. You need to find a way for everyone to get out of this alive.   
  
You walk down to the main deck and watch the Tidecaller grow closer. You watch your ship, valiant as she’s ever been. You begin to pray in your mind. You’ve never been sure about gods, but you’ve seen enough to not cross anything off the list of possibilities.   
  
“We’re going to let them board,” you say.   
  
“They’ll outnumber us,” Mattie says.   
  
“I don’t think they’ll attack. Even if they decide we need to die, we’ll get a trial first.”   
  
“Oh, how comforting,” Mattie snaps.   
  
The Tidecaller is almost beside you. Your heart seems to stop, and you imagine that world again. You imagine a world where Carmilla gets to live, where you’re friends. A world where you can bring her and Mattie to get a bite of Perry’s delicious baking. The best part about worlds like that, you think, is that it only takes a little work to make them real.   
  
“We’re pulling up beside them!” Mattie says and you snap out of your trance.   
  
“Prepare for them to board,” Carmilla says.   
  
“This is our last chance to run,” Mattie reminds you both.   
  
“Running isn’t an option anymore,” you remind her in return. “Strip the poles.”   
  
Carmilla nods and you wonder when she started respecting your orders, or any orders at all. You both work to draw the sails down as the Tidecaller pulls up beside you. You watch their sails fall and you pray. You pray to no one in particular, but you just say the same thing over and over.   
  
Please let this work.   
  
You watch in silence and something resembling fear as both ships stop. Mattie stays at the wheel, watching. You walk to face the ship, to face your fears and your hopes all at once. Carmilla comes to your side and there’s that hand again, that hand on your shoulder. That hand that trusts you. That hand that worries about you. That hand that’s been covered in the blood of countless people. That hand that comforts you.   
  
You scan their deck and see sailors in a flurry. You see them in all their disorganization. You see them at the climax of fear. You know that in a way, you have an advantage.   
  
“They’re going to think we’ll ambush them if they board,” you say.   
  
“Until they get here and realize most of us are dead and that Peggy has a bum leg.”   
  
“They don’t know that yet, which could work for us.”   
  
“Do you see anyone you know?”   
“Not yet.”   
  
“Governor!”   
  
You know that voice, you’d know it anywhere. That voice that makes jokes, that voice that calls for your protection. You thank whatever god has listened and wave a hand.   
  
“Armitage!”   
  
You see the captain behind the rail of the ship and he waves in return. He’s got a smile on his face and his beard is no longer up to naval standards. Still, you’ll let it slide if he’ll let you live.   
  
“Governor Hollis!”   
  
“Commodore Lawrence!”   
  
You’re about to get a mean I told you so, and several slaps on the wrist. You’re about to hear never-ending condescending rage about how insane and naive you are. Still, you’re hopeful. It’s worth it, it’s all worth it.   
  
“Come aboard, governor! The king wants to see you at once!” Lawrence calls.   
  
“Actually, I was hoping you would come aboard, we need to have a talk!”   
  
“I can’t do that!”   
  
“And why not!? You can’t have a chat with an old friend?”   
  
“You’re on a pirate vessel, governor. A pirate vessel known for attacking us. How do I know she doesn’t have a knife at your back?!”   
  
“Show them your hands,” you whisper to Carmilla.   
  
Carmilla raises them lazily and wiggles her fingers. “From what I’ve come to understand, I’m not that deadly!”   
  
“Now is not the time,” you whisper with a bite.   
  
“Who else is on board?” Lawrence calls.   
  
Mattie steps forward to stand at your other side. “Just me at the moment! Our crew is, I’ll say, indisposed, at the moment.”   
  
You watch Lawrence and Armitage squabble with each other. You imagine Lawrence is pulling her rank, while Armitage is pulling his usual charm and logic. You watch Lawrence throw up her hands and you know which of them is winning. Lawrence folds her arms and nods. You’ve gotten just far enough to still have hope.   
  
“Prepare for us to board!”   
  
Now it’s your turn. It’s your turn to place a hand, to comfort. As their crew scrambles among your old home, you place a hand at Carmilla’s back. You press a thumb into her uniform in a silent form of comfort. You wonder if she’s smiling and if it helps. You can’t know for now. A wooden plank hits the deck and you remove your hand. You walk to where the plank ends and you wait.   
  
You wait to see your old friends, and wonder if they’ll accept your new friends.   
  
“We’re coming aboard!”   
  
“Just you and Armitage!”   
  
“I’m not an idiot, governor! It isn’t safe over there.”   
  
“I need you to trust me!”   
  
“I do, Hollis, I just don’t trust them!”   
  
Armitage throws up a hand as if to silence you both. To be fair, it could go on for an hour. He takes to the plank and begins his stride over. His eyes are nervous, but he keeps them trained on you. His hands are shaking and you’d think he didn’t know how to wear his sea legs.   
  
“You can come with me alone, or you can stay over there. Personally, I’d like to meet a legend in the flesh, even if it is the last thing I do.”   
  
“Ugh. Fine,” Lawrence spits. She waits for him to finish crossing before she comes herself.   
  
When she’s on board, you smile. You dart into Armitage’s arms and give him a hug he’s entirely unprepared for. He chuckles and pats you on the back.   
  
“Quite professional,” he says. “I’m glad you’re okay, if you are, that is.”   
  
You let him go and take a step back. “I’m honestly wonderful other than the fact that there might be a bounty on my head.”   
  
“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. There’s an entire mess we have to clean up thanks you you and your pirate acquaintances,” Lawrence deadpans.   
  
“I can explain everything,” you say. You look to Carmilla who looks positively uncomfortable and then to Mattie, who looks at her nails as if she’s bored.   
  
“Oh, and this is Mattie, the first mate. And that is Captain Carmilla.”   
  
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Armitage says with a bow.   
  
“If I find one hair out of place, you’re dead,” Lawrence replies.   
  
“And this would be Commodore Lawrence and Captain Armitage,” you say, your words scrambling to cover up hers.   
  
“Pleasure,” Mattie beams.   
  
“If you plan to have Laura hung, you’re the one who’s going to need a coffin, commodore,” Carmilla says.   
  
“Do neither of you have manners?” you ask. Mattie smacks Carmilla on the arm.   
  
“Manners? They’re pirates, Lau-” Danny frowns. “Governor.”   
  
You notice Armitage’s eyes looking around the deck. You notice that suspicious and terrified look in his eyes. He notices bodies that are melting in the heat, he notices blood seeping through the cracks in the wood.   
  
“I would introduce you to the crew,” Mattie says. “But as you can see, they’re unavailable for such pleasantries.”   
  
“What happened here?” Armitage asks.   
  
“It’s a long story, why don’t we all sit down and talk?”   
  
“I don’t share tables with pirates,” Lawrence says. “I will talk to you and Armitage alone.”   
  
“Fine, Carmilla can we borrow your quarters?”   
  
“Be my guest.”   
  
“How hospitable,” Lawrence snaps.   
  
“A ‘thank you’ would have been preferred,” Carmilla deadpans.   
Lawrence ignores her and you sigh. Okay, so maybe them meeting each other was a little rough. There’s still hope, there’s still time. You motion for Lawrence and Armitage to follow you, and they do. Lawrence casts a crude stare at Carmilla, who only rolls her eyes and laughs. Armitage gives a warm smile and nod toward the two pirates, and Mattie returns it. At least one part of this is going well. You’ll thank them both for their chivalry later. You lead your old friends down to the captain’s quarters. You pull them each out a chair at Carmilla’s table.   
  
Armitage’s eyes wander around the treasure, bouncing between each with such admiration. He wants this life too, he knows this life, he’ll understand. Lawrence only keeps her eyes on you with a bit of disdain and betrayal.   
  
Once you’re all seated, you begin with just a pinch of hesitation.   
  
“How is Silas?” you ask.   
  
“Do you actually care?” Lawrence asks.  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
“It’s holding together the best it can,” Lawrence replies.   
  
“We’ve all missed you, of course,” Armitage says.   
  
“I’ve missed you all too,” you reply. “You have no idea.”   
  
“So then you’ll come home with us, without a fight? No tricks from your pirate pals?”   
  
You hesitate for entirely too long. You hesitate and you pray. You search your vocabulary for the correct words and the best way to shove them together. You try to come up with a plan, any kind of plan. Well, you can always think of one while you’re saying it.  
  
“I will go with you, and I will see the king,” you say. “I will take whatever is given to me as far as punishment.”   
  
“I’m glad to see you haven’t entirely lost it then,” Lawrence says with a sigh of relief.  
  
“I don’t think she was finished,” Armitage adds.   
  
“It wasn’t their fault that the Eresh sank. The crew boarded them without permission, and the pirates only attacked because they felt threatened.”   
  
“You are not seriously-”   
  
“I am not finished, Lawrence. Vordenburg and possibly others contracted them to kill someone that night. If we can prove it, we can make sure he gets what he deserves, as I will.”   
  
“Do you have proof?”   
  
“I don’t, but Mattie does. A contract that I assume has his signature.”   
  
“I can work around that,” Lawrence says with a nod. “So, you come with us, we sink the Panther, and we go home and fix this.”   
  
You think about it. You think about how to get away with what you’re about to say. You think about Carmilla, and bringing her to Silas. You know that definitely won’t work. You think about your promise and how much they trust you. You think about how whatever you have left of your old life, may be worth risking.   
  
“We’re not sinking the Panther.”   
  
“What!?”   
  
“We’re going to say we sank it, and that the pirate king is dead. But you will not harm them, do you understand?”   
  
“And now I know you’ve lost it. They’re going to die, Laura. You were the one that wanted them dead in the first place!”   
  
“Things change,” you say.   
  
“Clearly! You came out here to kill them. Does the name LaFontaine ring a bell? All of the sailors on the Eresh that died, do you remember any of them? How about Perry, who lost the love of her life, and has been worried sick about you since you left. Silas has been so quiet without you. We grieved because we thought you were dead. And then you know how we found out you weren’t? Because we were told you killed innocent soldiers to rescue your pirate friends. So tell me one reason I should let them go that isn’t entirely insane.”   
  
“I can give you more than one. Mattie saving my life, what, twice? Carmilla coming to my rescue when Vordenburg ordered to have me killed, because I threatened to turn him in. Carmilla took care of me, they all did. They kept me safe in a world I can’t even trust anymore. Did they attack when they were threatened? Yes. Are they trained killers and pirates? Yes. Should I want them dead? Probably! But I don’t, Lawrence, I really don’t.”   
  
“I trust you,” Armitage spits out.   
  
“Do not tell me you’re going along with this,” Lawrence says.   
  
“The governor has never steered me wrong. She’s never done something stupid and dangerous unless she knew it was right.”   
  
“Maybe this one time, she’s wrong. Maybe this one time, we shouldn’t blindly follow her. ‘Cause if we’re wrong? Two more dead pirates, which I can live with. If she’s wrong? We’re all traitors, dead traitors.”   
  
“I’m already a traitor, technically,” Armitage says. “I let them take the governor without a fight, though we would have all died trying.”   
  
“And I’ve already scolded you for that, which I will do more of when we’re done here. Are you both really willing to risk your whole lives for them?”   
  
Armitage removes his sailor’s hat and places it over his chest. “I pledged my life to Silas’s navy. I pledged my life to the governor. That life has been saved by said governor countless times. It makes no difference to me if I risk it once more.”   
  
“Armitage-” you start, but his head shakes.  
  
“I’ve made a promise, governor. If you’ve made a promise, I will help you keep it, no matter the cost.”   
  
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” you say. “You’ve never let me down.”  
  
“I could say the same of you, governor.”  
  
You think for a moment, two. You think of Silas, of your home. You think of the Panther, your other home. You think of the promises you’ve made and how dangerous it is for you to keep them. You think of how this is your last chance to say something bold, to stand up for what and who you believe in. You know this is it, this is the end either way. You have to do something.  
  
“Tell you what, commodore. You either let Carmilla go, or you sink this ship with me on it.”   
  
“And me,” Armitage adds.  
  
For once in her life, Lawrence thinks before screaming. Her eyes narrow and her brows arch. She seems distant, as if she’s gone to ask the stars for the answers. She sighs a heavy sigh and drops her head.   
  
“You’re willing to die, for them? For her?”   
  
“I am,” you say confidently. Your confidence is half false. You’re shaking, and you know they can see it. You know they can see your tears at the base of your eyes. You know that they know how serious you are. You’re already coping with the idea of your own death.   
  
“Before I can consider this, I need you to tell me everything that’s happened while you’ve been out here. No lies, no cover-ups, the truth. And even then, I’m not going to guarantee anything.”   
  
“Thank you,” you say, and you try to think of where to even start.   
  
First, you tell them about the innkeeper and the bar fight she started. You tell them about that being the first time Mattie saved you, even though you had just met. You tell them about the deal you made, and how you were plotting the death of the pirate king. You tell them how she softened you in that time, with her charm, with her strange kindness. You tell them how it felt to sail again. You tell them about the time you heard a story from the pirate king herself. You tell them about the snakes in the forest, about Vordenburg, about Mattie nearly dying. You tell them how you made your escape and you admit how sorry you felt for those that had died. You tell them about your bond with Carmilla. You even tell them about the monsters that lurk below. You tell them how the crew that was left saved you yet again. You tell them that they’re only surviving the way they were taught how to. You tell them about how they trust you, and how this conversation, this moment, is their last hope.   
  
“So they are monsters,” Armitage says, the color drained from his face. “They certainly don’t look like monsters.”   
  
“They don’t need to have wings and claws to be monsters. Humans can be just as monstrous,” you say.   
  
“They can be,” Armitage says with a nod. “Are they going to eat us?”   
  
“No, they have more control than that.”   
  
“Right,” Armitage says with a hitch in his voice.  
  
You both look to Lawrence, who is conferring with the stars again. You look at how she’s contemplating letting you live. You pray again, please, please, please. You feel a tear lick your cheek, but you don’t wipe it away. You want her to see how much it means, how much they mean.   
  
“If it means anything,” you say. “I didn’t do this without thinking about Silas. I didn’t do it without thinking about LaF or Perry or you two. Something just happened, I can’t explain it.”   
  
“They’re monsters, but so is Vordenburg. They’re pirates, but they work on contracts. They’re caring and kind, but they’re murderers,” Lawrence thinks aloud. She’s thinking too hard about the double edged swords in your story to be afraid of monsters. “It’s quite the story.”  
  
“Now you see what I’ve been dealing with the past week.”   
  
“It still doesn’t make what they’ve done right, governor,” she pauses. “But, I can tell this means a lot to you.”   
  
“It does, they do. If you would have been here, if you would have seen them, you’d understand why I’m doing this. I take my promises to my grave, this time a bit more literally than I’d like.”  
  
“You’d better be right about this one.”  
  
“You’re going to let them live?” You ask. You feel more tears coming, ones of joy. You feel yourself ready to jump in the air and sing the praises of the gods watching over you.   
  
“If she’s worth your life, I’ll let her live. For now.”  
  
“Thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise.”  
  
“I have conditions to this agreement. Armitage, go get them.”   
  
Armitage nods and places his hat back on his head. He stands and opens the door to find that Carmilla had her ear pressed against it. Mattie is right behind her, that smile beaming as if they weren’t doing anything wrong.   
  
“It seems I’ve got them,” he says. “Come in.”   
  
They follow him into the room, but they don’t sit. They only stare at the lot of you. Mattie watches Lawrence’s movements closely. Her hand is on her revolver. Carmilla only looks at you with those worried eyes. She seems to have lost all hope.  
  
“So does my hearing need to be checked, or are you getting off me ship?” Carmilla asks. She pretends so well, they both do. She pretends like she isn’t worried, like she isn’t scared.  
  
“I’m going to let you live,” Lawrence says.   
  
“How thoughtful,” Carmilla remarks.   
  
“Don’t make me second guess my decision, pirate.”   
  
“I apologize on the captain’s behalf,” Mattie says. “Do go on.”   
  
“You’re going to sail away from here and hide. Get a new vessel, and do not ever fly the jolly roger upon it.”   
  
“The Panther is my home,” Carmilla argues.   
  
“People often move, especially when their home is about to be destroyed if they keep mouthing off.”   
  
“Fine,” Carmilla says.   
  
“You will not ever sail in Silas’s waters, and you will never contact the governor again.”   
  
“What?” Carmilla says.   
  
“Lawrence, you can’t do that. Need I remind you that I’m your governor.”   
  
“You are, for now, if we can fix this. If anyone finds out that we let them live, we are dead, understand?”   
  
“Yes,” you say. You wish and pine for that hand. That comfort on your shoulder. Instead, you only see the sorrow in those worried eyes.   
  
“If we’re in agreement, we’re leaving with the governor and taking her home. She’s going to face the king and tell her story. If you’re smart, you’ll keep up with these terms.”   
  
“For your gracious offer, I’ll give you something in return,” Mattie says. You can tell she’s faking it. You can tell she’ll kiss an ass if she has to for survival. You know that inside, she wants to put a full round of bullets through Lawrence’s head.   
  
“What would that be?” Lawrence asks.   
  
“I have the contract that Vordenburg signed. You can use it as leverage or proof, whatever you may need.” Mattie walks over to Carmilla’s desk and opens a drawer. She sifts through papers that Carmilla obviously crammed in there. She walks back and hands one piece of parchment to Lawrence.   
  
“Thank you, this will definitely help.”   
  
“My pleasure,” Mattie says.   
  
“I have a condition too,” you say.   
  
“What is it?” Lawrence asks.   
  
“I get five minutes to say goodbye.”   
  
“No tricks, or I’m sinking this thing,” Lawrence says. Except she doesn’t say it to you, she says it to them. Mattie nods and Carmilla simply shrugs.   
  
“Let’s go, Armitage. We’ll be waiting on the deck. We’re not leaving without you.”   
  
“I’ll be there in a moment,” you say.  
  
Armitage stands with Lawrence, who storms out. She calls behind her to remind you that you have five minutes before she sinks this thing. Armitage puts a hand out to Mattie, who takes it with a firm shake. He then moves it to Carmilla, who you now notice is shaking right along with you. She shakes it lazily.   
  
“It really is an honor to meet two legends,” he says. “And to thank you, for saving my governor when I could not.”   
  
“She’s been a pleasure to have with us,” Mattie says. “Even if she does keep trying to get me killed.”   
  
“She has a knack for that,” Armitage admits. “Safe travels, to the two of you. Oh, and probably best you stay out of sight. We don’t want to have to keep our crew quiet.”  
  
“Good idea,” Mattie says. “Safe travels, captain.”   
  
Armitage takes his leave and you look to them. Your enemies, turned business partners, turned friends, and all the things in between.   
  
“Mattie, thank you, for saving my life.”   
  
“It looks like I won’t have to anymore, take care of yourself, pipsqueak.”   
  
“You too,” you say with a nod and a small laugh.  
  
“I’ll go keep an eye on the deck, make sure we don’t float off somewhere worse.”   
  
“Good-bye,” you say and your voice cracks.   
  
“So long, Hollis,” she replies. She leaves and it’s just you and the captain.   
  
It’s just you, her, and the silence. It’s you, her, and a tension so thick even your finest sword couldn’t cut it. You see her body shake violently and suddenly, she’s overrun. Sanguine pools hit her mask and you jump to your feet. You run into her arms and you hold her. You squeeze her and before you know it, you overflow too.   
  
“I’m going to miss you,” you say. “You and your enigmatic world.”   
  
“I don’t want to lose you again,” she says.   
  
“It’s not forever, I’m going to find a way. I’m going to find you again.”   
  
“You can’t. I can’t let you destroy anymore of your life for me.”   
  
“This is all fixable, I can take care of it. I can tell them the truth about you. Maybe I can get the king to see what I see.”   
  
“Oh sweetheart, always so full of hope,” she says. “I’m afraid you don’t understand this time.”  
  
“What is there to not understand, Carm?” you ask. “Won’t you miss me?”   
  
There’s a long, strained silence. She sighs and she whimpers. She cries and she bleeds. She shivers and she holds you so tight, you’re waiting to implode.  
  
“I will always miss you,” she says. “But when I look to the sky and see Orion’s belt, I’ll know you’re with me.”   
  
“What did you just say?”   
  
You push yourself back and you look at her. You look at those familiar eyes and that sprawl of hair. You look and you think and you try to remember a face you’d almost forgotten. You try to remember a face, but all you can smell is rain freshly dripped on roses. You can’t believe it, you won’t. You won’t think for even a moment that she was capable. Only, you know that for once, you’re wrong. You’re wrong and it hurts, it burns. You fall into hell, and it spits you back out, covered in scars left by your own tears.  
  
“I wanted to tell you,” she says. “I spent years trying to find a way to say it.”   
  
“No,” you say. “It can’t be.”   
  
She winces as you reach a hand toward her face. She balls her hands into fists to restrain herself when you grab onto her mask. You pull it away, and your heart drops. That face, that beautiful, forgotten face. That sharp jawline that could slit a man’s throat. Those soft lips that now hold a deep scar from a story you may never hear. That cute, little nose that used to nuzzle your neck. You see her, and you can’t breathe. You can’t believe you were so foolish. You can’t believe you’d forgotten so much. You can’t believe how much you’d given up, just to say it didn’t hurt anymore.  
  
“Mircalla,” you say.   
  
“Laura,” she says. She reaches up a hand to brush your cheek with her thumb. “I’ve missed you.”   
  
“Missed me? You didn’t even tell me you were alive.” You’re sobbing to the point that you’re embarrassed. You’re angry to the point that you want to leave and never come back. You’re still so in love, you wouldn’t dare to go.  
  
“I was a monster. I was stuck doing the bidding of my mother for years. I came so close to Silas so many times. I heard so many of your stories, how you became governor. I was so proud of you. And I thought maybe you’d moved on.”   
  
“Except I didn’t.”   
  
“I know. LaFontaine told me that they won’t even say my name in Silas.”   
  
“You looked LaF in the eyes, your friend, my best friend, and you still didn’t have the heart to convince them to live.”   
  
“I did, Laura. I really tried. We talked for a long time, we laughed remembering all those parties we snuck away from. They answered a thousand questions I had about you. That’s when I knew I still had a chance to see you again, that maybe you still cared.”   
  
“And now you’re telling me this, when there’s a chance I’ll never see you again.”   
  
“You said it yourself, we can find a way. I won’t give you up a second time without a fight.”   
  
“You lied to me. You kept the fact that you were alive from me, the love of my life, who I was starting to fall in love with all over again. And maybe it’s just because I was too much of an idiot to see it, but it’s still your fault for keeping this from me.”   
  
“I know, I just had to be sure you could trust me still, that you could care about a monster.”   
  
“Killing people? Eating them? That’s up for debate. This? This actually makes you a monster.”   
  
“Wait, Laura-”   
  
“Five years. I looked for you, everywhere, for five years. I went to places I wasn’t welcome. I sailed the open seas endlessly, looking for even a single hint that you were alive. And when they told me to stop looking? I didn’t. I’d send a vessel out here or there. I’d send letters to every island, hoping someone saw you, saw something. Eventually, I gave up, because I thought that if you were out there, you’d come back to me. I guess I was wrong”   
  
“I don’t know how to help you understand,” she says, defeated. “It wasn’t some easy thing, Laura. Between my mother and Mattie and the crew. I died. I watched my parents die. I watched the crew of the Scallop, my friends, die. And yet the last thing I thought of was you, and how I could never rest knowing you were out there still, waiting for me.”  
  
You open your mouth to reply when you hear a knock at the door. Mattie calls in to tell you your time is up. You want to yell back that you’ll stop time for this moment. You’ll stop the hands on every clock in the world to finish this. You’ll end all of existence except for this moment, because you have far too many words, and far too much heart, for time to ever hold you back. Carmilla calls that you’ll be out in a moment, and you hear a collective groan from the other side of the door. You restart your focus, your drive, your passionate anger, your delicate love. You remember the day you heard the news, the day you fell to your knees and cursed the world. You remember nothing but the day she died.  
  
“I died the day you did. And being here? It brought me back to life. Now here I am, climbing right back into that coffin.”   
  
“I didn’t want this,” she says. “I wanted to bring you here so many years ago. I wanted to tell you everything. I just wanted to hold you again, and then you were here, and you hated me. You wanted me dead, and honestly? I would prefer that to this.”   
  
She’s being sincere, you can tell. She has the look in her eyes that she had the day she gave you that flag piece. The piece you still hold in your pocket. The piece that reminds you why you’re here. The last piece you had of her, before now. You want to leave, to tell her to leave you and run. You want to tell her that there’s no hope left, but that’s not you, and you know it.  
  
“I’m not going to leave you thinking that I never want to see you again. Despite how much I loathe you, and maybe even hate you right now, I love you, I always have.”   
  
She doesn’t say a word, and maybe she can’t. Maybe there’s just too much to say for your language to handle. Maybe it’s a matter of too much heart, and not nearly enough time. She dives toward you and your lips collide. It’s messy, even messier than your first kiss all those years ago. But god, how the earth shatters beneath you. Your knees grow weak, even more-so when her hands grasp your cheeks. Even more so when you grab her waist and pull her toward you. The sea could never hold the power that she does in her lips. They’re cold like the shore on a winter day. Yet there’s that spark, that flame that hell can’t even match. She tastes like summer rain, which only reminds you of the day she died. But now, it will remind you of the day she came back.  
  
When you separate, you stroke her hair. You pet her cheek. You touch anything on her that verifies that she’s real, that you haven’t actually lost it. Your mind can’t stop, even for a moment. Your emotions blur and your thoughts bring memories back to you. A kiss that shattered the earth, a kiss that shattered time itself.  
  
“Nothing in the world will stop me from coming back to you,” she says.   
  
“I hope that’s true,” you say. “I really, really do.”   
  
“Even though you hate me?”   
  
“Yes,” you say with a slight smile.   
  
“Laura! Out! Now!” Lawrence screams through the door.   
  
“I’ll find you,” Carmilla says.   
  
“If not, I have no reservations about hunting you down again.”   
  
“I don’t doubt that. I love you,” she says. “Even though you hate me,” she taunts.   
  
“Not funny,” you say, which starts the tears all over again.   
  
“It’s not right now, actually,” she replies. A final stream of blood falls from her eye and you catch it with your finger.  
  
“I love you too,” you say.   
  
You kiss her again, standing on your toes to dig into her. You feel the power of all the storms that have ever been, and ever will be. You feel the strength of a monster, and the gentle kindness of a woman. You feel her for all she is and all she ever was. You break from her kiss when you hear banging on the door. You hold on to her arms for just a moment, before sliding away.   
  
“Take that stack of letters with you,” she says. “The one on the desk.”   
  
“What are they?”   
  
“The explanation you deserve,” she says. You grab the stack of letters and notice that the one on top is addressed to you.   
  
“Good-bye, Carmilla,” you say. “Or Mircalla, or whoever you are.”  
  
“Good-bye, Laura,” she replies. “I’ll find you.”   
  
“I’ll fill my garden with heather, so you will know where I will be.”  
  
“And every time I look to Orion’s belt, I’ll know that you are with me,” she replies.  
  
You tear yourself away from her gaze, despite everything in your being telling you to stay. You walk out the door to greet an angry commodore and Mattie trying to stay out of stabbing range. You see Peggy behind Mattie, acting as cowardly backup. You nod and assure that you’re ready to go. You’re ready to face the gallows, or whatever may be awaiting you. You’re ready to tell a story, unlike any you’ve told before. You’re ready to wait for your love to return once more. You’re ready to hold out hope, unlike you ever have before. You’re ready to go back to Silas.  
  
Only you aren’t.   
  
You take a deep breath through your nose, expecting the smell of death and dark magick.   
  
Only all you can smell is rain on roses, and the day she came back to you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, no, the story is definitely not over. This monster still has a looooong way to go. I've already got a lot of ideas for chapter 7, which should be very heartwarming as opposed to what I've just done to the community. 
> 
> Sorry, not sorry. See you soon! Comments and kudos appreciated!


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